Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD581ZWDR5DWYBVYRNXGED4

Molly spread the blueprints of the Henderson bungalow across the hood of the getaway vehicle, which was, regrettably, a minivan with a sticky interior and a bumper sticker about an honor student. "The presents are in the living room," she said. Bill squinted at the diagram. "Magician's threat level?" "Balloon animals only. Low." Their plan was elegant in its simplicity: Bill would pose as a clown hired by mistake, and Molly would pose as the cake. She had built the cake costume herself out of foam and spite, and it smelled faintly of the garage. The getaway would occur during the piñata, when every adult eye would be fixed on a blindfolded six-year-old swinging a stick with menace. Bill had reservations. He'd had them since the cake fitting, when Molly made him promise to wheel her in without laughing. He'd laughed anyway. She'd docked his share. He'd laughed again, because the cake had wheels, and that was objectively funny. Molly sealed herself into the frosting. "No one suspects the cake." Bill adjusted his red nose and honked it twice: once for courage, once because it squeaked delightfully. The party started at two. They would be rich by three, or arrested by a magician.