Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ00SBEJH7RTCZAAW807Y31Y

The basement smelled like old socks and ambition. Molly spread a crayon-drawn map across the table, weighted down by a half-eaten sandwich. "Okay, the party starts at two. Balloons, cake, a bouncy house—the whole nine yards." "Twenty-seven presents last year. I counted." Bill tapped the map with a grimy finger. "Right next to the gift table. In and out." "That's what you said about the church bake sale, and you ended up stuck in a window for forty minutes." "The brownies were worth it." Molly ignored him. "We disguise ourselves as clowns. Nobody questions a clown at a kids' party." "I hate clowns. Everyone hates clowns." "Exactly. Nobody will talk to us. We load the presents into the balloon animal bags and walk right out." "And if some kid recognizes his own gift?" "Bill, he's turning five. He won't even notice. He'll be too busy eating cake." Bill chewed his sandwich thoughtfully. "Do we at least keep the cake?" "Focus, Bill." "I am focused. On cake." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be a disaster, but every heist needed a good disaster to make the ending interesting.