Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GWQ0V6SJWNY7VFCAPB7MSA

Molly slapped the blueprints onto the van's hood and waited for Bill to catch up. "You're sure this is the target?" Bill asked. "The community center, Saturday, two p.m. Little Timmy's seventh birthday." "Guard dogs?" "Worse. A bouncy castle and twelve kids hopped up on juice." "I don't do children, Molly. They scream. They point. They have no respect for the craft." "That's why you're on wrapping duty. I handle the present table." "Security?" "One grandma. Armed with knitting needles and opinions." "What's the extraction plan?" "Sugar crash hits at three. They all go down like little dominoes. We walk out with the loot in garbage bags." "Garbage bags?" "Fancy ones. Polka dots." "And if the clown notices us?" "The clown's a mole. Been on our payroll since the Hendersons' bar mitzvah." Bill wiped his forehead. "I'm having moral qualms here. These are children's presents." "Relax. Half are socks. The good stuff goes to the orphanage." "The orphanage?" "Christmas Eve. Those kids deserve heists too." Bill groaned. "Fine. But I'm keeping the pony." "There's no pony, Bill." "That's exactly what they said about the Hendersons' bar mitzvah." Molly rolled up the blueprints. "Gear up. We strike at cake time."