Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5DJ7BWS9SMRQ276SPHCSN

Molly crouched behind the inflatable bounce house, adjusting her clown nose for the third time. The suburban backyard glittered with balloon arches and a banner reading HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY, TYLER. Somewhere under that mountain of wrapped presents sat the collectible they'd spent weeks tracking: a limited-edition dinosaur plush, worth more than Bill's car. Bill waddled over in his mascot costume, the giant duck head under his arm. "Ventilation in this thing is criminal," he whispered. "That's not the crime we're committing," Molly said. They studied the present table, guarded by a grandmother whose folding chair had achieved sentry-like authority. Molly sketched the plan in the dirt: two o'clock, cake time, everyone distracted by sugar and a magician with a suspiciously real-looking dove. "The duck is the distraction," she said. "You lead the chicken dance. I lift the goods." "Why is a duck leading a chicken dance?" "Mascot confusion is part of the plan." Bill exhaled, jammed the head back on, and waddled toward the patio. Somewhere, a toddler screamed with joy, which Molly chose to interpret as good luck. She checked her watch, palmed her saddlebags, and whispered the thief's eternal prayer: please let the cake have enough sugar in it.