Run: 2026-09-23-01M37P26152BM7726ZKTSH61FJ

Molly spread the blueprints across the hood of the van. They were a birthday invitation with a map drawn in purple crayon. "Two o'clock," she said. "Timmy Henderson turns seven. Forty guests. Maybe sixty presents." Bill squinted at the drawing. "Why exactly is the bouncy castle labeled 'danger'?" "Because it is danger. Children in bouncy castles are basically feral." He nodded slowly, adjusting the balloon animals stuffed in his coat. They squeaked whenever he breathed, which undermined his menace. "And my disguise?" "You're Mister Giggles, the clown. I'm your assistant, Glitter." "I genuinely hate clowns." "Everyone hates clowns. That's why nobody looks at them directly." Bill considered this, then pulled a squeaky horn from his pocket and honked it. Somewhere down the street, a dog began to howl. "What if the kids recognize us? We did rob the Morrison bar mitzvah." "Bill, they were thirteen. These are seven. Seven-year-olds can't identify anyone. They think I'm a hundred." "You're forty-two." "Exactly. Also, I'm keeping the pony." Molly rolled up the invitation and tucked it into her tote bag. Bill honked the horn once more, and the dog howled back in solidarity. "Right," she said. "Nobody touches the cake. Ever."