Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DH698P4ZMGD54NVVXFGT6

Molly spread the stolen party invitation across a picnic table while Bill polished his clown nose. The candlelit spreadsheet listed gate codes, nap schedules, and which parent guarded the gift pile. Outside, a bouncy castle wheezed like a dying dragon. Somewhere, a children's party pulsed with sugar and chaos. Bill tapped a crayon map of the community center. Molly highlighted the snack table, the emergency exit, and the piñata's suspiciously reinforced rope. "So we pose as balloon artists, slip past the hired magician, and swipe every present before cake." "And the kids?" "Bribe them with frosting. They're tiny, corruptible, and have no legal standing." "Last time a toddler bit my shin and called me a bad Santa." "Then wear shin guards. I'll handle the gift table. You release the piñata." "That's candy, not cash." "Exactly. Candy causes riots. Riots cause cover." "What about the parents?" "Tell them we're doing a surprise charity raffle." "And the goat?" "The goat knows the back fence. Bring carrots." "Fine. But if a princess defeats us, I'm retiring." Bill nodded solemnly. Molly zipped her tool kit, checked her fake mustache, and practiced a cheerful clown honk. The plan was stupid, illegal, and only mildly likely to succeed. Perfect.