Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ06SZXTXP2D6611JCTK9QB3

The van smelled like desperation and old french fries. Molly spread the blueprint across the steering wheel, though calling it a blueprint was generous. It was a crayon drawing she'd swiped from the trash outside Rainbow Castle Party Venue, depicting a rainbow, a lopsided cake, and what appeared to be either a dog or a very confused horse. "The birthday girl is turning six," Molly said, tapping a purple blob that supposedly represented the party room. "Six-year-olds get the good stuff. Electronics, gift cards, probably some kind of robot that parents ordered off the internet at two in the morning." Bill leaned in closer, squinting. "Is that a dog or a horse?" "How should I know? It's a children's drawing." "Looks like a llama to me." "Nobody asked you about the llama, Bill. Focus." Molly pulled out a photograph of the venue's back entrance. "The party starts at two. Parents drop off kids, some stay, most bail for two hours of freedom. We hit during the cake-and-presents window. Maximum chaos, minimum supervision." Bill scratched his chin. "You want me to walk into a room full of screaming children and start loading presents into bags?" "I want you to walk into a room full of screaming children wearing a mascot costume and start loading presents into bags." Molly reached into the backseat and hauled out the droopy head of a six-foot-tall purple dinosaur. "The venue rents these out. I may have lost the rental deposit." "That thing smells like the inside of a sock puppet." "Socks are exactly the vibe we're going for. Kids love disgusting things. You'll blend right in." Bill stared at the costume with visible horror. "And you? What's your role?" Molly pulled out a lanyard with a laminated badge that read JENNIFER - PARTY COORDINATOR in cheerful block letters. "I'm the coordinator. I have the authority, the clipboard, and the energy drink. Nobody questions a woman with a clipboard." "What if someone asks you a question about the kids?" "What kind of question?" "Like, which one is the birthday girl?" Molly flipped open her notepad. "Her name is Sophie. She likes unicorns, hates peas, and her mom posted forty-seven photos of the party prep on social media. Sophie will be wearing a tiara and a look of perpetual rage because her best friend stole her glitter glue earlier." Bill blinked. "You researched the glitter glue incident?" "I research everything, Bill. That's why I'm the brains." "And the purple dinosaur is the brawn?" "The dinosaur is the distraction. While the kids mob you for hugs and someone inevitably tries to put their hand through your eye hole, I collect the gifts. Fifteen minutes, tops. Then we disappear through the kitchen." "What if a parent gets suspicious?" "You're a seven-foot dinosaur at a children's party. The only suspicious thing would be if nobody tried to take a selfie with you." Bill considered this, then slowly pulled the dinosaur head over his own. His muffled voice came from inside. "How do I look?" "Terrifying. Perfect." Molly started the van. "Remember, this isn't theft. This is redistribution. Those parents spent three hundred dollars on toys that will be forgotten by Tuesday. We're providing a service." "A community service." "That's exactly right. Now drive, dinosaur. We've got a llama to deal with." "There is no llama, Molly. That's clearly a horse." "Nobody asked you, Bill."