Run: 2026-09-01-01M1ENH193YMBR0G8CG4Z4MFDF

Molly adjusted her black beret, which slipped over her eyes because she forgot her hair up. "Bill, is a children's party a soft target with juice boxes?" Bill scratched his beard, grown for this caper. "Soft target? Twelve toddlers, Mr. Giggles, and an astronaut piñata. What's the security?" "One dad with a phone and a mom auditioning for reality," Molly said, pulling out a blueprint. "We enter through the inflatable slide. Its integrity is questionable, but so is our retirement plan." Bill frowned. "The slide exits into a ball pit of plastic eggs. Landmines for adults over five feet." "Good thing I brought knee pads," Molly said. "We split loot by color. Red for you, blue for me." "We need a distraction," Bill said, producing a rubber chicken. "I'll deploy it at the snack table." "That's a cry for help," Molly said. "Exactly," Bill said. "In comedy heists, the plan sounds clever until it fails. Ready?" Molly checked her watch, a toy clock from a previous job. "Midnight. But the party ends at four, so we're early." "Then let's be late," Bill said. They crept toward the bounce house, leaving crumbs that could only be breadcrumbs of destiny.