Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD65C3HZGT4G520M5NFY87H

Molly crouched behind a hedge shaped like a giraffe, binoculars pressed to her eyes. Across the lawn, a bouncy castle swayed in the breeze, and a banner reading HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, TIMMY drooped sadly between two poles. "Present count?" Bill whispered, adjusting his clown wig, which had been their entire disguise budget. "Forty-three. Maybe forty-four if that big one isn't a decoy." The big one sat on the gift table like a monument, wrapped in paper covered with rocket ships. Molly had already decided it would ride shotgun. Bill consulted the plan, which he had drawn on a napkin. It depicted a stick figure tripping over a rope, which he insisted was a tactical diagram. Molly chose not to argue. The plan was simple: walk in wearing clown outfits, blend in, load the wheelbarrow, walk out. A real clown strolled past them carrying balloon animals, and Molly waved professionally. Bill waved back at the wrong person entirely, which was typical. They waited for the piñata. When chaos erupted, children screaming, candy flying, adults filming instead of supervising, that was their window. Molly tightened her grip on the wheelbarrow handles. "On the piñata," she said. "On the piñata," Bill agreed, and crossed himself with a balloon sword.