Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NF2MRKD45YC159AV89RAH

Molly unfolded a crayon map on the alley dumpster. Bill, disguised in a balloon-animal hat, watched the church hall shimmer with streamers, parents, and the terrifying music of sugar. “Right. We enter during pass-the-parcel, blend with the magicians, and liberate the glittery loot.” “Liberate? They’re teddy bears, not prisoners.” “Everything in wrapping paper is oppressed.” “What if a child asks my age?” “Say you’re tall for six.” “I’m thirty-eight.” “Extremely tall.” “What if they make me dance?” “Then dance criminally.” “What if there’s a clown?” “Bill, focus. The bicycle is our crown jewel.” “You don’t ride bicycles.” “I could learn. Crime needs cardio.” “You once got winded opening a biscuit tin.” “That tin was fortified.” A paper crown skittered over and stuck to Molly’s boot. She kicked it off with professional disdain, slipped on a cupcake, and landed in a recycling bin with a small heroic honk. “Maybe the universe objects.” “The universe can queue.” They peered through the window. Beneath HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRACIE! a girl hugged a three-legged rescue dog. “We’re stealing from a dog girl?” Molly folded the map. “Fine. We steal cake and donate better balloons.” Bill nodded, already calculating whether frosting counted as portable treasure tonight.