Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSJPPB5NDJCX8WY1MYBQZJZ

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, binoculars trained on the bouncy castle as though it were a fortified bank vault. Beside her, Bill chewed nervously on a stolen party hat, the elastic strap snapping against his chin with every anxious breath. Spread before them on a checkered picnic blanket lay their meticulous blueprints, drawn in crayon because that was the only writing implement Bill had managed to liberate during their reconnaissance. The presents glittered in the afternoon sun, stacked beside a table groaning under the weight of frosted cupcakes and suspicious-looking punch. Twelve children, ages six to eight, swarmed the lawn like tiny, sugar-fueled security guards, their reflexes terrifyingly unpredictable. "They have a clown," Bill whispered, voice trembling. Molly lowered the binoculars and shot him a withering glare that could curdle milk. She had planned heists in casinos, museums, even a particularly tense incident involving a duchess's tiara. A clown would not be her undoing. The plan was simple. Bill would create a diversion involving the piñata. Molly would slip through the gap in the fence, load the gift bags into her oversized trench coat, and vanish before the cake was cut. Bill exhaled, gripping his crayon blueprint. "This is madness," he muttered miserably.