Run: 2026-05-31-01KSYXQTSEMXXRVR1QERT5289W

Molly crouched behind the hedge, binoculars trained on the suburban fortress disguised as a bouncy castle. Streamers fluttered like enemy banners. Somewhere inside, a clown was juggling, which she found deeply unsettling. Bill unrolled the blueprints across the grass, pinning the corners with juice boxes he'd liberated earlier as reconnaissance. The layout was brutal: a gauntlet of folding tables, a piñata strung like a tactical landmine, and at least fourteen sugar-crazed seven-year-olds patrolling the perimeter. "The presents," Molly whispered, pointing. "Stacked by the gift table. Unguarded." Bill shook his head gravely. He produced a diagram of a small girl named Tabitha, the birthday queen herself, who reportedly possessed the bite radius of a wolverine and the screaming capacity of a smoke alarm. They had timed it perfectly. Cake distribution created a window of chaos roughly ninety seconds long, during which adult supervision collapsed entirely and every child entered what Bill called "the frosting trance." He checked his watch. He'd disguised himself as a magician; Molly wore a face-painter's apron, balloon animals dangling from her belt like grenades. "On my signal," he murmured. The candles ignited. Twelve voices began the dreaded birthday hymn. Molly tensed, gripping her tote bag, ready to plunder paradise.