Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DD74QK6GKJT4GW8TDT23P

Molly parked the van behind a hedge shaped like a dinosaur and killed the headlights. Through the windshield, a bouncy castle wobbled under a swarm of screaming children. Bill unfolded a crayon map across the dashboard. "Run it again," Molly said. "And if you say clown, I drive away." Bill tapped the map with a cold chicken nugget. "Party starts at two. Chloe turns seven. Twenty-eight kids, six parents, one magician named Marvin the Mediocre. Presents go on the ping-pong table by the patio. Cake at two-forty. That's our window." The map showed the house in crayon, the escape route in glitter, and the dog in a red circle labeled DO NOT TRUST. Molly stared at the nugget, then at him. "Security?" Bill grinned. "One dad filming vertical video, one mum refilling juice, one grandma asleep in a deck chair. The dog is tiny but hostile. He wears a birthday hat." Outside, a unicorn piñata swung in the breeze like a warning. Molly cracked her knuckles. "And the magician?" "Rabbit trick at two-fifteen. Everyone screams. We slip through the side gate, grab the gifts, and vanish before the cake." Bill traced the route with his finger, smearing nugget grease over the patio. Molly rubbed her temples and checked the van's cracked mirror. "Gifts are in bags. Too bulky. We need pillowcases." Bill produced two princess pillowcases from his jacket. "Already packed. Sparkly camouflage." The pillowcases had sleeping princesses on them, all dreaming of better men. "Nothing says stealth like unicorns." "Also, party hats." "No." Molly looked at the party hats in his lap. They were pink, cone-shaped, and covered in sequins. "With hats, we look like eccentric uncles. Without them, menacing strangers. It's science." "Fine. But no balloons." "Balloons are emergency exfiltration." "Bill." "They float. They distract. They're festive." A balloon escaped the backyard and drifted past the windshield. Bill pointed at it with meaning. Somewhere inside the party, a child screamed with joy or betrayal. The van ticked as it cooled. "Entry point?" Molly unfolded a legal pad covered in jam stains and escape routes. "Side gate. Unlocked. Rusty. It squeaks like a mouse with a grudge." "Alarm system?" "A parrot named Paprika. Says awk and divorce." "Handle her." "I'll offer part of my sausage." "You brought one sausage." "We're stealing presents from a seven-year-old. We can afford two sausages." "Budget is tight. We returned most of last week's loot." "Because the teddy bear had a nanny cam." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. The van smelled like sausage and bad decisions. "Focus. We take the pink-wrapped presents. Only those." "We're taking all the presents." "Start with pink. Morale." Bill drew a tiny cake on the map and added three candles. "A slice might fall into my hand. That's physics." "Ninety seconds. In and out." "No clowning." Molly pulled on a party hat and started the engine. Bill did the same, grinning like a man who had already eaten cake. "In and out in ninety seconds." "No promises."