Run: 2026-05-31-01KSYXB30F2V9PAPY9JMVQAYP2

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table, smoothing out the wrinkles with the side of her hand. "Behold," she said. "The Hendersons' backyard. Ground zero for Operation Birthday Bonanza." Bill leaned in, squinting. "That's a napkin." "It's a tactical diagram." "You drew a bouncy castle in crayon." "I drew it to scale," Molly said, offended. "And that's not crayon, it's a fine-point marker. Now focus. The party starts at noon. By twelve-thirty, the presents will be stacked on that gift table like treasure on a pirate ship." Bill scratched his stubble. "And how exactly do two grown adults walk into a seven-year-old's birthday party without anyone noticing?" "Disguises." Molly grinned and produced a paper bag. From it she pulled two enormous foam costumes. "We go as the entertainment." Bill held one up. It was a bright purple dinosaur with a permanently surprised expression. "Absolutely not." "You'll be Mister Stompy. I'll be his lovely assistant, Sparkle the Clown." "Why do you get to be the clown?" "Because I have range, Bill." He sighed and stepped into the dinosaur suit, zipping it to his chin. "This smells like somebody's nightmare." "That's the smell of professionalism." Molly applied a red foam nose. "Here's the plan. You distract the kids with your dance routine. While they're mesmerized—" "I don't have a dance routine." "Improvise. You're a dinosaur, just stomp menacingly." She mimed a robotic shuffle. "Meanwhile, I sneak to the gift table, load everything into the bouncy castle, then we deflate it and roll the whole thing out to the van." Bill stared at her through the dinosaur's mesh mouth. "We're stealing presents from a child." "We're stealing *unopened* presents," Molly corrected. "Which is basically a victimless crime. The kid never even knew what he was missing. We're saving him from disappointment." "That's the most twisted logic I've ever heard." "Thank you. Now, what's our exit code phrase?" Bill thought about it. "How about, 'Let's leave'?" "No, it needs to be subtle. Something only we'd recognize." Molly snapped her fingers. "If I yell 'Who wants cake?', that's your signal to grab the loot and run." "Everyone at a birthday party wants cake, Molly. You'll start a stampede." She paused. "Okay, fair. New code phrase. 'The piñata has spoken.'" "Nobody says that. Ever. In the history of language." "Exactly. It's untraceable." Bill flopped down onto a chair, the dinosaur tail flopping with him. "Remind me again why we don't just rob a bank like normal criminals?" "Because banks have security guards, alarms, and lasers." Molly tightened her clown wig. "A birthday party has a distracted dad with a spatula and a goodie bag policy. We're playing chess while everyone else plays checkers." "We're playing dress-up while everyone else eats hot dogs." "Same energy." She slapped the table. "Now get in the van, Mister Stompy. We've got a party to crash." Bill stood, the foam dinosaur creaking with every step. "If I get tackled by toddlers, I'm blaming you." "That's the spirit. Roar like you mean it."