Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H58WNCJN21B4MKQW4HZ63W

Molly crouched behind the bounce house, adjusting her grapple hook made from a jump rope and pure desperation. The birthday party raged on across the lawn—thirty sugared-up children guarding a mountain of presents like tiny, frosted elves. Bill slid in beside her, dressed as a clown. "You look horrifying," she whispered. "That's the point. No one suspects a sad clown." "Everyone suspects a sad clown, Bill. That's the entire genre." He ignored her, peering through the mesh window. The presents sat on a folding table beneath a banner reading HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY TYLER. Twenty-three boxes. Bill had counted twice. Molly had counted three times, because she didn't trust him with numbers. "The mother's hovering," Bill said. "Every time a kid gets close to the table, she swoops in like a dragon on a hoard." "That's not a dragon, that's a woman who spent four hundred dollars on a LEGO set." They watched a six-year-old poke suspiciously at Bill's left shoe, which was, regrettably, still on fire from the escape at the toy store. Molly sighed. "New plan. We go in as parents." "We don't have children." "Then we better find one in the next sixty seconds, or that cake is leaving without us."