Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2DYEKQHC9ME671PFWA231

Molly adjusted her fake mustache and peered through binoculars at the suburban house, where forty balloons bobbed above the porch. Bill sat beside her in the van, sweating through a rented clown costume that smelled of nacho cheese and regret. Blueprints covered the dashboard, along with a cake diagram and a photo of the birthday boy, Tyler, who reportedly had a vicious right hook. Bill honked his rubber nose nervously. Molly slapped his hand away. "Relax. Nobody suspects a clown," she whispered. "Everybody suspects a clown," Bill said. "That's the whole problem with clowns." Molly ignored him and checked her watch. The piñata would be swung at two o'clock, and in the chaos of candy and screaming, two professionals could empty the gift table before a toddler could say mine. Bill squeezed out of the van, his enormous shoes flapping like startled fish. Molly followed, carrying a balloon animal named Kevin, which secretly contained a crowbar. "Just follow Kevin," she said. "Ready?" she asked. "Never," Bill said. Together they marched up the walkway toward the front door, ready for the greatest heist ever attempted against people who still needed naps. Somewhere inside, a tiny voice began singing off-key. Bill winced.