Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NHTVE25M9W2NMPR55WHTS

Rain tapped the windows of the community hall while Molly spread a floor plan across the bonnet of her stolen hatchback. The map showed lanterns, frosting, and unsupervised toddlers. Their target was every present, before anyone noticed. Behind the party room’s banner, a mountain of wrapped presents waited beneath the coat rack, guarded by one exhausted parent and a balloon shaped like an angry swan. “Tonight, we enter as clowns,” Molly whispered. Bill adjusted his bow tie, which had gravy on it from a job involving a wedding cake and a surprised groom. “Children distrust clowns,” Bill said. Molly frowned. “Then wear balloons; nobody suspects balloons,” Molly replied. Their entry strategy depended on blending into the party, although neither owned a costume, and Bill considered a bedsheet “basically theatrical.” The back door stood open for deliveries. A papier mâché dragon blocked the hallway, its painted nostrils smoking from a hidden cupcake warmer. Bill eyed it nervously. “I’m allergic to subtlety,” Bill muttered. Molly handed him three yellow balloons and a clipboard labeled PARTY INSPECTOR. “Perfect,” said Molly, “probably.” They marched toward the door, practicing their cheerful faces. Bill’s looked like a man apologizing to a fish. Inside, children began singing.