Run: 2026-05-29-01KSSK6AEYXYND1M42M5942EK7

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the table, smoothing it with the reverence of a general. "The bouncy castle is our blind spot," she said. "Nobody watches the bouncy castle." Bill squinted at the diagram. "And the presents?" "Pile by the cake table. Forty, maybe fifty gift bags. We're talking premium loot—action figures, art kits, those squishy stress balls that go for a fortune resale." "I'm allergic to clowns," Bill admitted, fidgeting. "There's a clown?" "There's always a clown, Molly. They're security in disguise." She rolled her eyes and tapped the map. "You'll create a distraction. Pretend you lost a balloon animal. While they're consoling you, I sweep the table." "What if a child notices?" "Children are unreliable witnesses," she said briskly. "They'll blame the dog." "There's a dog?" "There's always a dog, Bill." He swallowed hard. "And the getaway?" "Out through the garden, over the fence, into the ice cream van." "We have an ice cream van?" "I rented one. Nobody suspects an ice cream van." Bill nodded slowly, then frowned. "This feels deeply wrong." "It's a heist," Molly said, folding the map. "It's supposed to feel wrong. Now grab the ski masks and the juice boxes."