Run: 2026-05-22-01KS87H4CQV1JA41E75XRGB683

Molly carefully smoothed out the crayon drawing of the Henderson residence, tapping a red marker against the inflated bouncy castle in the backyard. "The target is the dining room," Molly said. "Specifically, the pile of gifts near the punch bowl. We go in at fifteen hundred hours, right after the piñata drops." "Right after the piñata," Bill repeated, squinting at the map. "Why not during the piñata? Everyone is distracted by the flying candy and the blindfolded kid with a baseball bat." "Because the parents record the piñata on their phones. When it breaks, there is a three minute window of pure chaos. Sugar crashes, crying, and someone inevitably gets hit with a Tootsie Roll. That is our window." Bill took a sip of his lukewarm coffee and traced the route from the driveway to the back door. He stared at the heavily fortified perimeter, which consisted mostly of plastic lawn flamingos and a coiled green garden hose. The afternoon sun beat down on their parked surveillance van, making the interior feel like a convection oven. "What if the piñata is reinforced? We could be waiting twenty minutes while a kid named Brayden bounces the bat off its papier-mâché skull." "I accounted for Brayden. His father bought the cheap donkey from the discount store. It will shatter on the third strike." "What about the clown?" Bill asked. "The clown is a mercenary. If he sees us, you distract him." "How do I distract a clown? Do I challenge him to a balloon animal duel?" "Ask him to make a poodle. Clowns hate poodles because the ears always flop. While he struggles with the latex, I slip through the patio door." Molly slid a pair of heavily tinted tactical goggles across the scratched kitchen table. The rubber straps were cracked, and the left lens had a noticeable scratch. Bill picked them up, inspecting the cheap plastic frames with profound professional disappointment. "Put these on. The bounce house reflects a lot of sunlight, and I do not want you getting snow blindness before we even reach the wrapping paper." "Molly, they are seven year olds. The security system is a baby gate and a golden retriever named Barnaby. I feel like we are overthinking this." "Barnaby is a threat. He licks intruders, which leaves DNA on our pant legs. We wear the dog treats in the tactical vest. You throw the treats, I grab the Lego Death Star." "What if the Lego Death Star is already opened?" "Then we steal the gift cards. Little Timmy gets a lot of Visa gift cards from his grandmother. They are untraceable and fit perfectly in my shoe." Bill sighed heavily, carefully folding the crayon map and slipping it into his jacket pocket. "Fine. But if I get tackled by a toddler covered in frosting, I am leaving you behind." "Deal. Now go put on your party hat. We need to blend in." "And make sure it is the one with the polka dots."