Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DKPKNJHZWX05JEN66CSKR

Molly wiped the van window with her sleeve and studied the bouncy castle shuddering in the backyard. Bill adjusted his fake mustache and tiny party hat while consulting a napkin map covered in crayon arrows. The target was Bartholomew's seventh birthday, a lavish affair with three kinds of cake, a petting zoo, and a grandmother who had already made two children cry. The presents were stacked in the sunroom, thirty-seven boxes of untapped wealth. The sunroom had a sliding glass door with a faulty latch, a fact Bill had discovered while pretending to be a census taker. Molly had already counted the exits, the dogs, and the odds of being outrun by a toddler. "Walk me through it again, Bill." "Clown car at two. Presents in sunroom. Hedge exit." "The sunroom with the glass door?" "Exactly. I'm Bongo. You're the magician's assistant." "I'm not wearing a clown suit." "Fine. Mysterious lady in black." Molly loaded a satchel with zip ties and a collapsible grappling hook shaped like a candy cane. The van smelled of stale donuts and bad decisions. Outside, a real clown car pulled up. A genuine Bongo emerged, honking a horn and juggling oranges. Bill ducked below the dashboard. "What about the parents?" "Three dads, four moms, one grandma." "Grandma is the final boss." "We slip in during cake. Kids are sugared up." "The cake is a dinosaur." "Even better. Dinosaurs create panic." They watched the party through binoculars. A boy in a paper crown screamed with joy as a puppy licked icing off his face. Molly lowered the binoculars. "What about Grandma?" "Avoid. Strike during piñata." "The hedge has thorns." "Oven mitts." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "We're stealing from seven-year-olds." "Cash, gift cards, drone." "What if a kid asks?" "You're a princess." "I'm a thief." "A princess thief. It's called branding." Molly sighed and pulled on a black ski mask. Bill did the same, then added a party hat. They slipped out of the van and crept toward the fence. Bill tripped over a garden gnome. It played Happy Birthday. Every parent turned. Molly grabbed his collar and hauled him behind a bush. "Tactical miscalculation?" "Wait for magician." "The magician?" "He distracts. We become magician." Molly stared at the party, the presents, the terrifying grandma. The party playlist thumped from a speaker shaped like a watermelon. A piñata unicorn hung from a maple tree, its papier-mâché smile somehow judgmental. Somewhere inside, a magician was warming up a rabbit. Bill considered him a rival, a colleague, and a future scapegoat. "I hate this plan." "You hate every plan." "Every plan involves you." Bill grinned. "And yet, here you are." She checked her watch. "If caught, I'm telling everyone Bongo Two." "That's fair." They waited. The clown honked. The grandma stared directly at their bush. Molly whispered, "Run?" Bill whispered back, "Run." The hedge rustled. Somewhere, a unicorn piñata waited. The grandma reached for her phone. The breeze carried the smell of frosting, sunscreen, and imminent felony.