Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KC7SD5M2G1Q27Y7ZBQRDGM

Molly unfolded a crayon-drawn map of the bouncy castle perimeter, her finger tracing the juice-box stain that marked the present table. Bill nodded as if it were blueprints for the Federal Reserve. "The piñata guy is our mark," she whispered. "We strike during musical chairs." Bill frowned. "What about the clown?" "Trust me. Balloon animal distraction," Molly said. They crouched behind an old hedge shaped like a giraffe, watching toddlers waddle past with frosting-caked fists. Bill tightened the strap of his oversized duffel bag, which contained a small roll of tape, a pair of safety scissors, and a single juice box for courage. The plan was deceptively simple: wait for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, then hit the gift table while the adults were blinded by camera flashes and sentimental tears. Molly would unzip the loot sacks; Bill would stuff stuffed dinosaurs and Legos into the bag. The hardest part, they agreed, would be resisting the snack table. Bill insisted on wearing a party hat as a disguise. Molly insisted it made him more conspicuous. They compromised on two matching hats. In the distance, a nearby ice cream truck played a very sinister, deeply off-key tune softly.