Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR4WNT7EZVP8VHKYVM0473

Molly spread the crayon drawing across the hood of the van. "That's the layout. Bouncy castle here, piñata here, and the presents stacked on the folding table by the fence." "You got a seven-year-old to draw us a blueprint?" "I got a seven-year-old to draw us a blueprint for four dollars and a fruit roll-up. She drove a hard bargain." Bill squinted at the paper. "What's this purple thing?" "Clown." "That's a clown?" "That's an *obstacle*," Molly said. "Clowns notice things. Clowns have nothing better to do than notice things. That's their whole job." "So what, I distract the clown?" "You *become* the clown." She dropped a rubber nose into his palm like a getaway key. Bill stared at it. "I have a bad history with noses." "You have a bad history with everything, Bill, that's why you're the wheelman." "Then who's carrying the presents?" "Me. In the piñata." "You're going to hide inside the piñata." "I'm going to *be* the piñata," she said, "and when they hoist me up, I'll be directly above the table." Bill considered this for a long, respectful moment. "And when a child hits you with a stick?" "Then I'll know," Molly said, "that we're on schedule."