Run: 2026-09-23-01M36V80E6G9MW103H201T5PTZ

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the hood of their van. The streetlights caught the glitter glue decorating the legend in the corner. "So the birthday kid is turning seven. Name's Timmy Henderson," Bill said, tapping a purple crayon X on the map. "And how many presents are we talking?" Molly asked. "From my count inside the invitational window, at least thirty. Maybe more. Kids are generous when they want cake." "Thirty presents. All wrapped, all sitting right there in the living room." "Right there," Bill confirmed. "A mountain of them. Shiny paper everywhere. Some of those boxes are enormous. We're talking big-ticket items." "What kind of big-ticket items?" "Video game consoles. Tablet computers. One of those bikes with the flames on it." "Flames?" "Flames. Some kid's parents went all out." Molly chewed her lip. "What's the security situation?" "Two parents supervising. Maybe a grandparent. The dad has a camera but he only uses it to photograph Timmy smashing into a cake. It's a whole thing." "So there's essentially no security." "There's essentially no security. But there is a bouncy castle blocking the side entrance." "A bouncy castle." "It's enormous, Molly. Inflatable walls, four feet high. We go through that and we're exposed." "We could come in through the back door during the present-opening ceremony," Molly said. "Timing's tight on that. The ceremony starts at three-fifteen but those kids go wild. They want the presents immediately after cake." "Always presents after cake." "Every time. So the window is maybe seven minutes between the birthday song and when the parents start handing out gift bags." "Gift bags. They're giving out gift bags too?" "To the guests. Cheap plastic toys and candy. Noise-makers, whistles." "Whistles." Molly rubbed her temples. "We're not taking the gift bags." "We're not taking the gift bags. We're there for the presents on the table. Table is center of the room, draped in a tablecloth that says 'Happy Birthday Timmy' in silver letters." "I hate this already." "Now here's where it gets complicated," Bill said, producing a second crayon from behind his ear. "Timmy's grandmother is bringing a German shepherd." "You're kidding." "Name is Captain. The grandmother calls him Captain. He's not a police dog, Molly. He's a family pet. But he will lose his mind if strangers walk into that house." "What if we come dressed as party entertainers?" Bill paused. "What kind of entertainers?" "Clowns." "You want to walk into a children's birthday party as clowns and steal the presents?" "I want to walk into a children's birthday party as clowns and blend in." "Molly, that is insane." "Do you have a better plan involving a German shepherd named Captain and a four-foot inflatable wall?" Bill stared at the map. A long silence followed. "We'll need costumes." "I know a guy at the costume shop who owes me one," Molly said. "Of course you do."