Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2EVFAG460NG1Y1ZM670GQ

The van smelled of stale donuts and questionable decisions. Molly Pemberton pressed her binoculars to her eyes and studied 42 Maple Lane, where a bouncy castle shaped like a unicorn wheezed in the front yard and a banner proclaimed HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, CHESTER! "Twenty-three kids, eleven parents, one clown," she said. "And a mountain of presents on the porch." Bill Trotter lowered his sandwich. "Why is the clown a problem?" "Clowns are always a problem." Bill sighed and studied the blueprint on the dashboard, which was a napkin bearing a crude drawing of a house and a smiley face labeled "Us." "Here's the plan," Molly said. "You go in as the pizza guy." "They arrested me at the bowling alley." "Only after we got the shoes." She tossed him a red cap. "You distract the parents. I'll be the balloon lady and slip out with the loot." "You can't make balloon animals." "I can make one. It's a sad worm." Bill put on the cap, which was two sizes too small and perched on his head like a pimple. Across the street, a boy in a cape shrieked and hurled a cupcake at a smaller boy, who responded by biting him. None of the parents noticed. They were deep in a conversation about sourdough. "Amateurs," Molly whispered. "This is easier than stealing candy from a baby." "Technically, that's exactly what we're doing." "Don't get technical, Bill. Get morally flexible." They climbed out of the van. Bill carried three pizza boxes, and Molly hauled a duffel bag containing a helium tank and, underneath it, a dozen empty sacks. Halfway up the driveway, a girl in a tiara planted herself in front of them with her arms crossed. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Pizza," said Bill. "Balloons," said Molly. "You're supposed to be one person." Molly crouched down. "We're a team. A pizza-balloon team." The girl narrowed her eyes at the porch, where the presents glittered like a dragon's hoard, then back at them. "I'm the present guard. It costs five dollars to get past me." Bill and Molly exchanged a look of deep professional respect. "Kid," Molly said, slowly pulling out her wallet, "how would you like a job?" The girl held out her hand. "Ten dollars. And I want a cut." "Twenty percent," Molly said. "Forty." "Thirty, and you keep the clown busy." The girl smiled, and it was the most frightening thing Bill had seen all year. She turned and marched toward the clown, who, sensing doom, began to back away in his enormous shoes.