Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2J79QW9AAZEBQVDE08N3K

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, binoculars pressed to her face, while Bill tried to eat a sandwich without rustling the wrapper. Across the lawn, the Henderson backyard glittered with balloons, a bouncy castle, and a mountain of gift boxes stacked beside a cake shaped like a dinosaur. Bill swallowed. "Forty kids is a lot of witnesses." Molly lowered the binoculars and gave him the look she usually reserved for men who brought real guns to fake robberies. She knew the clown arrived at two, the pizza at two-thirty, and that at precisely three o'clock every child in the yard would surrender to the piñata, becoming deaf, blind, and feral. "Piñata," she whispered. "Three o'clock. They won't notice a thing." Bill nodded slowly, brushing crumbs from his fake mustache. He had been a professional for twenty years, yet nothing had ever made his palms sweat like the sight of a seven-year-old in a cardboard crown guarding the gift table with a foam sword. "That one's going to be trouble," he muttered. Molly checked her watch, tightened her balaclava, and adjusted the party hat she'd wear as camouflage. Somewhere inside the house, a clown honked a horn, and the heist began.