Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2J6ZHH4AY6D28NZE8FD8CB

Molly knelt behind a hedge, peering through binoculars at the inflatable castle bobbing in the backyard. “Okay, Bill, give me the lay of the land again.” Bill shuffled the napkin schematic, smudging the hand-drawn arrows. “Clown station at eleven o’clock. Bubble machine at two. Present pile between the bounce house and the petting zoo, guarded by a small girl who looks like she could take my kidney.” “She’s eight, Bill.” “Eight years of rage, Moll. That’s a vet. We go in from the side, I create a diversion. I’ll— what’s the word?— floss.” “You don’t know how to floss.” “I’ll wave my arms like a windmill, it’ll be fine. You snatch the gift bag with the glittery tissue.” “That’s the birthday pull. The real haul is the plastic tub under the table. It’s got the tablets.” Bill squinted. “Tablets? Like Moses?” “Gift cards, you moron. Five hundred, easy.” “Right. So I mime a seizure, you grapple the tub.” “That’s the worst plan you’ve had in three years.” “It’s three years better than your last one. Remember the alpaca?” “That was a llama, and it was your fault.” Molly sighed. “Fine. Windmill and mime. But if the kid with the unicorn horn spots us, I’m using you as a shield.”