Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2A4RW2JS7VE3TAXC06B53

The van smelled of egg sandwiches and poor decisions. Molly unrolled a hand-drawn map across the dashboard while Bill adjusted his fake mustache in the rearview mirror. "Stop touching it," Molly said. "It's crooked because you keep touching it." "It itches. Why do I even need a mustache? We're wearing balaclavas." "Not for the entrance. For the entrance, you're Uncle Gary." "Who's Uncle Gary?" "Nobody. That's the beauty. Every kid's party has an uncle nobody can place. The parents assume he's from the other side." Bill nodded slowly, impressed against his will. "And the target?" Molly tapped the map with a lollipop. "Fourteen Wisteria Close. Tobias Pemberton-Hayes turns seven at two o'clock. Bouncy castle, face painter, and according to the invitation, a gift table groaning with generosity." "Groaning," Bill whispered. "I love it when they groan." "Focus. The table's in the conservatory, between the trifle and the pony." "Why is the pony inside?" "It rained. Keep up." Bill squinted at the map. "What's this scribble? It looks like a angry potato." "That's Tobias's grandmother. Sources say she once tackled a magician." "Why?" "He pulled a coin from her ear without asking." "Fair enough." Bill cracked his knuckles. "So how do we get the presents out? There must be forty of them." "Forty-three. I counted from the hedge." Molly grinned and produced a photograph of a giant foam dinosaur costume. "You'll wear this. Presents go in the tail." "The tail?" "It's hollow. I've modified it." "Molly, I can't be a dinosaur. I have a reputation." "Your reputation is that you once got stuck in a cat flap." "That was a *large* cat flap." Molly ignored him and checked her watch. "At two-fifteen, I'll release the cake-related distraction." "What's the cake-related distraction?" "I've swapped the candles for the sparkly ones that don't blow out. Chaos, screaming, everyone crowds around the birthday boy while you waddle off with his entire haul." Bill winced. "Children terrify me. They're small, but they have no fear." "They're seven. Their only weakness is being told there's a second, better party elsewhere." "Is there?" "There will be. I printed flyers." She handed him one that read *SUPERIOR PARTY, NEXT STREET, FREE SLIME.* Bill stared at it with real reverence. "This is evil." "This is *efficient*." Outside, a distant cheer went up, followed by the unmistakable neigh of an indoor pony. Molly pulled down her balaclava. "That's our cue. Remember the plan?" "Waddle, grab, waddle, flee." "And if anyone asks?" Bill straightened his mustache and lowered his voice into a wobbly baritone. "I'm Uncle Gary. Don't worry about it." "Beautiful," Molly whispered. "Now go be a dinosaur."