Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PJZXRW16F91FZ94GPT129

Molly unfolded a crayon-stained floor plan across the van’s dashboard. Outside, balloons bobbed from the community hall like cheerful witnesses. “Bill, stop eating the evidence.” “It’s a cupcake, not evidence.” “It has the party logo on it.” “Then I’m destroying their branding.” She tapped the map. The presents were stacked beside the puppet stage, guarded by one grandmother, two clowns, and a suspicious golden retriever. “We go in as entertainers,” Molly said. “I hate puppets.” “You are not the puppet. You are Professor Pickle, balloon scientist.” Bill stared at the squeaky green wig in his lap. “That title comes with tenure?” “It comes with access to the gift table.” “And what are you?” “Madame Twinkles, face painter and distraction specialist.” “You once painted a tiger that looked like a tax accountant.” “It was abstract.” Inside the hall, children shrieked with joy. Bill flinched. “That sound is illegal.” “That sound means cake soon. Cake means chaos.” He adjusted his fake mustache, which immediately fell into his tea. “Molly, maybe stealing from children is low.” She paused, then sighed. “Fine. We only steal the presents marked from Uncle Gary.” “Why?” “Nobody likes Gary.” Bill grinned. “A noble heist, then.” “The noblest.”