Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NMS6VW1F0TKM6A1W33379

The community hall glowed like a sugary lighthouse against the rain. Inside, children shrieked, balloons squeaked, and a papier-mâché dinosaur guarded a mountain of presents with the stern dignity of an underpaid bouncer. Molly crouched behind a hedge, wearing black velvet and the expression of someone who had just remembered she left the oven on. Bill unfolded their floor plan: a napkin featuring three rectangles, one gravy stain, and an alarming doodle labeled “laser.” “We enter through the bouncy castle; nobody suspects a person-shaped lump.” “And we leave with every present, wrapped or otherwise?” Molly nodded and pointed toward the side door, where a handwritten sign promised NO ADULTS in letters large enough to be seen from space. Their disguise was a pair of oversized mascot heads: Molly was a rabbit, Bill a carrot, a costume choice he continued to describe as strategic. He had practiced saying surprise without sounding like a tax auditor. The plan was simple: blend with the parents, wait for cake, then sweep the gift table into their laundry cart. Bill wore a party hat and carried a card reading World’s Best Uncle, although he was neither world-class nor related to anyone there at this party.