Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ061WTH9246GFMAJRJ37JCT

Bill crouched behind the hedge, studying the house like a general planning D-Day. "Alright, here's the layout. Party starts at three. Thirty kids, minimum." Molly peered over his shoulder. "Thirty kids? That's chaos we can work with." "Exactly. Peak pandemonium hits around three-fifteen when Sugar Rush kicks in. That's our window." "You want to rob a party full of hopped-up six-year-olds?" "Rob is such an ugly word. We're redistributing presents." Molly snorted. "What's the take?" Bill unfolded a crumpled printout. "According to the registry, we're looking at six Lego sets, four Barbie Dreamhouses, and something called a Squishmallow that apparently retails for sixty dollars." "Sixty bucks for a stuffed blob?" "Don't judge the merchandise." Bill pointed at the back door. "Kitchen entrance. The mom will be busy performing Frozen for the fourteenth time. We slip in during 'Let It Go.'" "Harsh timing. That song goes on forever." "That's the point, Molly. She'll be fully committed." "What about the clown?" Bill froze. "There's a clown?" "Hired entertainment. Big red shoes, squeaky nose, the works." "Clowns are unpredictable. We wait for balloon animal duty. He'll be occupied." Bill rubbed his hands together. "In and out. Three minutes." Molly nodded slowly. "And if something goes wrong?" "We cry and say we're the cake delivery people. Nobody questions cake people."