Run: 2026-05-01-01KQHR79V2M0R97RAKQQZ174N1

Molly adjusted her fake clown nose and grinned at Bill across the rickety card table. “Okay, genius. We hit the bouncy castle at exactly three-fifteen, right when the magic show starts. Kids’ll be hypnotized by the rabbit, presents completely unguarded.” Bill scratched his beer gut. “Molly, we’re robbing six-year-olds. My mother still won’t speak to me.” “Your mother stole your childhood joy, Bill. We’re just redistributing it. Besides, I already bought the getaway ice-cream truck.” “You bought a vehicle that plays ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ on a loop?” “Kids love it. Cops hate it. Perfect misdirection.” She tapped the crudely drawn map. “You shimmy up the slide, I’ll work the balloon-animal distraction. If anyone asks, you’re a very tall, very sweaty princess.” “I’m not wearing the tiara again.” “Last time you complained you still kept the sparkly one.” “That was for the pawn shop, not emotional closure.” Bill sighed. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling the parents you made me do it.” Molly smirked, sliding him a tiny party hat. “Wear the hat, Bill. We strike at cake time. Nobody guards presents when there’s ice cream cake.” “God help us,” he muttered, adjusting the elastic. “We’re going to hell in a bouncy house.”