Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2JE5QQYYQNC10MK9CYZVDE

The list lay between them on the greasy diner table, a single sheet of paper covered in Molly’s precise, tiny handwriting. “Alright, run it again,” she said, tapping the page with a forkful of pancake. “Entry vector.” Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. “Through the bouncy castle. I know. It’s stupid.” “It’s inspired,” Molly corrected. “The rental guy pumps it up at eight, then goes for a smoke. We crawl through the deflated fold and pop out behind the cupcake table. They never see us until we’re inside the tent.” “Inside the tent is where the four-year-olds are, Molly.” “Irrelevant. They’re short. We’re tall. We’ve got the height advantage for grabbing gift bags off the trellis.” Bill licked his thumb and flipped a page of the party planner he’d lifted from the mother’s minivan. “The ‘Star Wars’ theme means a lot of cardboard droids. Trip hazards.” “You’re worried about tripping on a cardboard R2-D2?” She took a bite of pancake, chewing thoughtfully. “Okay. Fine. We broom it.” “Broom it?” “I bring a push broom. We sweep a path. It’s called problem-solving, Bill. Now, the moment of truth.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “After the piñata, the parents take photos for twenty minutes. That’s our window. You snag the Amazon boxes from under the photo-booth table. I hit the pile by the front door.” “And if a kid sees me with the boxes?” “You kneel. Look them in the eye. Say, ‘I’m Santa’s intern. This is a surprise.’ They’ll believe you. They still believe the dog is a superhero.” Bill stared at her. “You’ve thought about this a lot.” “I’ve been to three children’s parties this month. You pick up patterns. The screaming is a constant, but the screaming shifts in tone. Right before the cake, it’s a low, hungry whine. That’s when they’re weakest.” She grinned. “We strike at cake time.” “What about the magician?” “He’s allergic to cats. There’s a PTA mom who brings a cat stroller. He’ll be sneezing into his top hat by the time the candles are lit.” She wiped her fingers on a napkin and crumpled the list. “So. You in or out?” Bill looked at the list in her hand, then out the window at the bright blue bounce castle already inflating in the park across the street. “One last question. What do we do with the presents?” Molly slid the napkin across the table. On it, she’d drawn a second bouncy castle. “We launch them back from where we came. The rental guy leaves the air pump on. We tie the bags to the tethers, let them fly, and catch them behind the hedge.” “That’s insane.” “No. That’s a three-point plan.” She stood, pocketed the napkin, and grabbed his arm. “Now come on. The magician’s car just pulled up. And his nose is already twitching.”