Run: 2026-07-01-01KWEA1Z5WFNHXYX10SF0DVBVE

Molly slid the blueprint across the table, a crayon drawing of a bounce house with "TIMMY'S 7TH BIRTHDAY" scrawled in glitter glue. "This is our target?" Bill said, squinting. "A seven-year-old's birthday party?" "Not just any party," Molly said. "Word on the street is Timmy's getting a PlayStation, a hoverboard, and—get this—an actual drone." "A drone? At seven?" "Rich kids, Bill. Keep up." Bill crossed his arms. "So what's the plan? We just walk in wearing clown suits and grab the loot?" "Please. I have a system." Molly pulled out a rubber chicken mask. "You're the entertainment. I'm the caterer's assistant." "Why do I get the chicken?" "Because chickens are trustworthy. Everyone loves a chicken." "Nobody loves a chicken, Molly." "Kids do! Now, when you're doing your act, I sneak the presents into the dessert table hollow center—" "There's a hollow center?" "I built it last night. Focus." Bill sighed, pulling the chicken mask over his head. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you." "If we get caught, we'll be outrun by a seven-year-old," Molly said. "Let's not get caught." Bill's muffled voice came through the beak. "This had better be worth it." "Trust me," Molly grinned. "That drone's paying our rent this month."