Run: 2026-05-31-01KSYXCSBXEQ16VVH7NSG6ES8P

Molly spread the blueprints across the table, smoothing the crayon-drawn map they'd stolen from a kindergarten. "The party starts at noon," she said. "We hit the gift table during the piñata." Bill squinted at the diagram. "Why the piñata?" "Because every adult turns into a savage when candy rains from the sky. Total chaos. Nobody watches the presents." He nodded slowly, stroking his chin. "Brilliant. And the clown?" "Honkers? He's our inside man. Costs us forty bucks and a balloon animal." "You bribed a clown." "I bribed a professional," Molly corrected. "Now, you'll be disguised as Uncle Gary. Nobody questions an Uncle Gary." Bill held up the ill-fitting sweater she'd provided. "This smells like meatloaf and regret." "Authenticity, Bill. Commitment to the craft." He sighed dramatically. "And the getaway?" "Ice cream truck. I rented it. We blend right in, then drive off into the sunset playing 'Pop Goes the Weasel.'" "That song haunts my nightmares." "It'll haunt theirs too, when they realize little Timmy's mountain of gifts has vanished." Bill grinned, finally warming to the plan. "We're really doing this. Robbing a seven-year-old." "Not just any seven-year-old," Molly whispered, eyes gleaming. "The mayor's kid. The presents are practically luxury goods."