Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD6BXF81SGF2N96QQ3DZE2X

Molly spread the blueprint across Bill’s knees: a crayon map of Maple Street, one cupcake sticker marking the Lopez backyard. “We go in as clowns,” she said. Bill adjusted his fake nose with the solemnity of a man defusing a bomb made of glitter. “I hate balloons.” Outside, twenty children shrieked like seagulls who had discovered sugar. The plan was simple: enter during musical chairs, compliment the magician, locate the gift table, exit before the piñata achieved consciousness. Bill’s mustache kept sliding left; Molly pinned it with a princess sticker. “Grab gifts, not kids.” He nodded, then froze at the sight of the inflatable fortress guarding the lawn like a pastel dragon. “Why is there a bouncy castle?” Molly whispered, “Cover.” They tiptoed past a sleeping grandmother, under a banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIMMY, and into a cloud of frosting. Every present wore ribbons. Every ribbon seemed judgmental. Bill lifted a wrapped dump truck; it squeaked. A toddler opened one eye. Molly smiled with criminal warmth. Bill mouthed a prayer to Saint Getaway. Somewhere, a kazoo announced doom with cheerful authority, and the cake began to move very slowly. Then the magician said, “Volunteers?” and both thieves raised their hands.