Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KZK5H723ZDXTQTB8WFB2TZ

Molly and Bill sat in the stolen ice-cream truck across the street from the community center, where a giant inflatable castle bobbed like a sugary beacon of chaos. Inside, thirty children screamed with the unbridled joy of future criminals. Bill nervously adjusted his hot-pink party hat while Molly studied the birthday invitation she'd swiped from a mailbox. "Tell me the plan again," Bill said, "and this time use fewer words that make me want to move to Canada." Molly ignored him and tapped the stolen invitation. "Simple. We walk in dressed as the entertainment, distract the sugar zombies, and leave with every present that isn't glued down." Bill peered through the windshield at a small boy eating frosting directly from the cake. "What kind of entertainment wears neon shorts and has a criminal record for jaywalking?" "The Great Billini, children's magician," Molly replied. "You'll do a show with cards, a fake rabbit, and absolutely no fire." Bill groaned. "I don't know any card tricks. Last week I tried to shuffle and accidentally dealt myself a restraining order." Molly pulled a deck from her pocket and handed it over. "Perfect. Sleight of hand is just misdirection. Stare at their parents until someone cries, then palm the gifts." Bill examined the cards as if they might bite. "And what will you be doing while I'm being tackled by a birthday girl with sticky hands?" "I'll be the harried party planner," Molly said, adjusting her clipboard and a name tag that read Cheryl. "Nobody questions Cheryl. Cheryl controls the cake, the games, and the emergency juice box supply." Bill slumped in his seat. "I still think we should target the bank. Banks don't have ball pits." Molly shook her head. "Banks have vaults. This party has a piñata full of candy and a gift table guarded by a golden retriever who can be bribed with string cheese." Bill's eyes narrowed. "How much string cheese are we talking about?" Molly held up a grocery bag stuffed with individually wrapped dairy sticks. "Enough to bribe a small army or one very enthusiastic dog." Bill eyed the cape Molly had crafted from a sequined tablecloth. "This isn't a cape. It's a bedsheet that lost a fight with a craft store." Bill nodded slowly. "Fine. But if a toddler bites me, I get to keep whatever present is closest." "Deal," Molly said. "Now put on your cape. It's showtime, Great Billini." Bill stepped out of the truck and immediately tripped over his own oversized shoes. Molly watched him face-plant into a bush, sighed, and grabbed the empty duffel bags. Some heists required stealth and precision. This one required a juice box bribe and a grown man in a cape. She couldn't wait. She pocketed the cheese, slung the bags over her shoulder, and marched toward the party. Inside, a child was about to lose an expensive remote-control car, and Molly intended to be holding it when the tears started. Bill, still stuck in the shrub, saluted weakly.