Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0P2A4SA5NE3VJVR4N9MTAB

Molly unfolded the crayon map across the bonnet of their van, which was disguised as a slightly ill-tempered bouncy castle. Bill held a clipboard, a party hat, and the expression of a man betrayed by glitter. Across the street, balloons bobbed above number twelve, where shrieks, cake fumes, and the promise of wrapped loot drifted into the afternoon. "Front has clowns," Molly said. "Back gate's jammed; rabbit hutch is our tunnel." Bill peered over the fence. "Fine, but if it bites, you distract the magician." Their plan was elegant, in the way a shopping trolley in a fountain is elegant. Molly would enter as Princess Sparkletoes, Bill as her royal allergist. At precisely jelly time, they would replace the present table with an identical table on wheels, painted during a very stressful breakfast. Molly checked her tiara's hidden screwdriver. Bill practiced sneezing confetti. Then the birthday boy opened the curtains and waved. On his shirt was written: JUNIOR DETECTIVE CLUB. Twelve children raised magnifying glasses. The thieves smiled, reversed the van, and decided to rob a tax seminar instead. It had fewer balloons, more biscuits, and nobody under eight trained in forensic frosting or advanced squealing. A safer job.