Run: 2026-09-24-01M39W8K9KX27BY2GKGFHTSZ7T

The van was parked across from 42 Maple Drive, engine off, windows fogged with Molly's nervous breathing. She held the binoculars to her eyes and shook her head slowly. "Bill, you said this would be a cakewalk." "It is a cakewalk. Literally. There's a cake." Bill leaned over and squinted through the windshield. "Two-layer, chocolate, with a dinosaur on it. I did recon." "You did recon on the cake?" "Recon is recon, Molly. You don't skip steps." Molly lowered the binoculars and stared at him. "There's a bounce house, Bill. A bounce house. You didn't mention a bounce house." "I didn't mention it because it's not a problem." "It's a twelve-foot inflatable fortress, Bill. It's a sightline blocker. It's a—" "It's cover," Bill said, tapping the dashboard like a general. "That thing deflates our problems, pun intended. We go in during musical chairs. Total chaos. Kids crying, parents filming, nobody counting presents." Molly chewed her lip. "What about the clown?" "The clown leaves at four." "The clown leaves at four? You know the clown's schedule?" "I talked to him. He's named Chuckles. He's got a gambling problem and a bad knee. He's basically one of us, Molly. He's basically family." "That's not family, that's a liability. Is he reliable?" "He cried during his own act. Twice." Molly rubbed her temples. "Okay. Okay. The presents. Where are they?" "Card table, left side of the yard, under a 'Happy Birthday Timmy' banner. Seven-year-old, so expect dinosaurs. Possibly robots. Definitely something that makes noise." "Guarded?" "His grandmother." Molly's head snapped toward him. "There's a guard?" "She's eighty-two, Molly. She's sitting in a folding chair with a paper plate of deviled eggs." "Grandmothers are not to be underestimated, Bill. Grandmothers have eyes in the backs of their heads. My grandmother caught me stealing cookies through a closed door." "Then we distract her. I'll compliment her deviled eggs. Nobody suspects an egg compliment." "That's your plan? Eggs?" "It's a good plan. Eggs are a gateway conversation." Molly went back to the binoculars. "There's a dog." "There's no dog." "There's a dog, Bill. Small. White. Currently wearing a party hat." Bill grabbed the binoculars. After a long silence, he exhaled. "That's Biscuit." "You know the dog's name?" "Everyone knows Biscuit. Biscuit bit the mailman, the UPS guy, and a Girl Scout. That dog is an animal, Molly. Literally." "So we're doing a heist with a bounce house, a grandmother, and a known biters list." She paused. "How much are the presents worth?" "Timmy's dad is a dentist. I'm guessing a Nintendo, a bike, maybe one of those hoverboards." Molly was quiet for a moment. Then she pulled a ski mask from the duffel between them. "Musical chairs at three-fifteen. You handle the eggs. I handle the table." "And the dog?" Molly slid her mask on. "We say a prayer and we run fast, Bill. We run very, very fast."