Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7GQ245WQ5HX30MRYXVYDA

Molly crouched behind the bouncy castle, blueprint spread across Bill's back. The diagram was drawn in crayon, because she'd stolen it from a six-year-old's birthday invitation. "So we go in through the kitchen," Bill whispered. "No, the bathroom window. Kitchen's got the clown." The clown was a problem. The clown had eyes like a debt collector and balloon animals that squeaked betrayals. Molly adjusted her party hat—disguise, obviously—and counted presents stacked by the patio table. Forty-three. A haul of Lego sets, dolls, and at least one suspiciously heavy box that jingled like loose change. Bill tied his shoelaces with the solemnity of a man defusing a bomb. They had practiced this in the parking lot: synchronized gift-grabbing, the diaper-bag swap, the emergency retreat through the sprinkler system. Bill had cried during rehearsal, but only because the sprinkler was cold. A kid wandered past, juice box in hand, and squinted at them. "Act natural," Molly hissed. Bill immediately began eating grass. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. The plan was flawless. The plan had charts. The plan did not account for Bill, who was now being investigated by a concerned grandmother. "New plan," Molly muttered, "we steal the clown too."