Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE9RP9BM17QPVS1WMNFKK6H

The rain hammered against the window of the beat-up sedan parked outside 1428 Maple Street, where a banner reading "HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY TYLER!" hung soggy and drooping over the garage door. Molly checked her watch, then adjusted the ridiculous clown wig sitting on the dashboard like a dead poodle. "I still don't understand why I have to be the clown," Bill said, staring at the wig with the disgust of a man asked to eat something that had once been alive. "Because I'm doing face painting, obviously," Molly said, popping open a compact mirror to check her makeup. "You think I spent four years in art school to juggle badly? No. You're the clown. I'm the artist." "You went to art school for two semesters." "Details." Bill sighed and picked up the wig like it might bite him. "And the plan again? Just so we're clear. Because last time you said 'the plan' and I ended up hiding in a dumbwaiter for three hours." "The plan is simple," Molly said. "We go in, we do our jobs, kids have the best birthday party of their tiny lives, and while everyone's distracted by cake and a magic show gone slightly, deliberately wrong, we load the presents into the utility closet. Then we load the utility closet into the van." "Slightly wrong how?" "You're going to saw a woman in half. Badly. On purpose. It'll buy us ten minutes minimum while the parents scream." "There's no woman." "There's a mannequin, Bill. Try to keep up." Bill finally jammed the wig onto his head, and it sat there like a furious orange bird had died mid-flight. "This is humiliating." "You look great. Very trustworthy. Very 'I would never steal your children's Nintendo Switches.'" "That's exactly what I look like I'd do." "Perfect, then." Molly snapped the compact shut. "Now, remember — we've got exactly forty minutes between the pizza arriving and the parents getting suspicious about their car being blocked in. Forty minutes to paint faces, saw a lady in half, and clear out every present in that living room." "And if someone's kid recognizes us from the news?" "They're seven, Bill. They think the news is boring people talking. Nobody's kid is watching a segment on 'Suburban Theft Ring Targets Birthday Parties.'" "There's a suburban theft ring targeting birthday parties?" "There is now." She grinned, tucking a fake mustache into her makeup kit for good measure — just in case someone got too close. "Chin up, buttercup. In forty minutes we'll be halfway to the state line with a van full of Legos and a very ruined magic show behind us." Bill stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror, the wig sagging tragically over one eye. "I hate this plan." "You hate every plan." "I hate this one *specifically*." Molly opened her door, letting in a gust of rain and the distant sound of children screaming with joy, completely unaware of what was coming. "Get out of the car, Bonzo. We've got a party to crash."