Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4VB9C9R2YQAQTSFRRDK1P

The van smelled like old fries and worse decisions, which was fitting, Molly thought, because they were parked outside a bouncy castle at eleven in the morning on a Saturday. "Remind me again why we're robbing a six-year-old?" Bill asked, adjusting the clown wig that itched something fierce. "Because, William, little Timmy Henderson's birthday party has forty-three confirmed presents, and his father collects rare coins and wraps them as gag gifts." Molly smoothed her own wig, a fetching neon pink number. "One of those 'gag gifts' is an 1804 silver dollar worth more than this van. More than a hundred of these vans." "And the bouncy castle?" "Distraction. You get stuck in it." "I get what?" "You're the distraction, Bill. You're six-foot-three. The moment you try to bounce, every parent in that yard will be filming you instead of watching the gift table." Bill stared out the windshield at the inflatable monstrosity, which was shaped like a dragon and appeared to be judging him. "I don't like this plan. The last plan with me as the distraction ended with me in a koi pond." "The koi pond was your fault. You were told to walk, not run." "There was a swan, Molly." Molly pulled a duffel bag from under the seat and began stuffing it with empty wrapping paper. "Swap technique. We replace the presents with pre-wrapped boxes of identical size and weight. Nobody notices until the unwrapping, and by then we're three counties away eating pancakes." "What's in the fake boxes?" "Rocks. Very festive rocks." "You're a monster. I love working with you." They climbed out of the van, which had "PARTY PALS ENTERTAINMENT" stenciled on the side in letters that were already peeling. Bill had done the stenciling himself, badly, and Molly had decided it added authenticity. Real party entertainers never looked quite legitimate. "Balloon animal skills?" she asked as they approached the gate. "I can make a snake." "That's just an un-inflated balloon." "I can make a worm." "Also just an un-inflated balloon." "Then the children will marvel at my range." A woman in a sun hat intercepted them at the fence, clipboard in hand, smelling of sunscreen and suspicion. "You're the entertainment? You're forty minutes late." "Traffic," Molly said smoothly. "Clown convention. You wouldn't believe the congestion." The woman squinted at Bill, who waved and honked his nose. The honk came out wrong, more of a wheeze, and a nearby toddler began to cry. "He's method," Molly added. Inside the yard, the gift table groaned under a mountain of shiny packages, and Molly's eyes went soft the way they only did around other people's valuables. She clocked the exits, counted the parents, and located the coin-sized box, third from the left, wrapped in dinosaur paper. "Bill," she murmured. "The dragon awaits." Bill sighed the sigh of a man who had made many poor choices and was about to make one more. "If I die in that castle, tell my story honestly." "I'll say you bounced bravely." And with that, the world's least qualified clown waddled toward destiny.