Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GWQG68GDJR0E7NAEABA0C2

The Hendersons' backyard blueprint lay spread across the diner table between two ruined stacks of pancakes. Bill traced the perimeter with a syrup-sticky finger while Molly studied the enemy: a bouncy castle, drawn in aggressive crayon, guarded by a teenager named Dylan who checked invitations with the vigilance of a Swiss bank vault. "Sixteen presents," Bill said, tapping the wagon sketched by the gift table. "Wrapped. Unattended. Sitting ducks." Molly had cased the party for three whole days. She knew the layout, the sprinkler schedule, the piñata's weak seam, and exactly when Dylan abandoned his post, because Pokémon Go doesn't catch itself. "The bouncy castle," Bill said. "A blind spot if you're wearing a clown nose," Molly said. They had clown noses. Red ones, with elastic strings. The plan came together over cold coffee: cut the fence at dusk, grab the wagon, roll out through the hydrangeas. Ninety seconds, maybe two if the balloon arch was still standing and Bill got sentimental. "Cake stays," Bill said, and Molly agreed, because even professionals have standards. Bill raised his mug in salute. Molly clinked it with her orange juice, already memorizing balloon colors for the getaway. Sixteen presents. One wagon. Easy money.