Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2MC037D5DA4R85DG9KJRX

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the van and weighed down the corners with a juice box, a stapler, and a half-eaten churro. "This," she said, tapping a crayon-drawn rectangle, "is the Hendersons' backyard. Saturday, two o'clock. Little Tobias turns six, and his parents have spent more on party favors than I spent on my first car." Bill squinted at the paper. "Why is there a dragon on it?" "That's the bouncy castle." "It has a face." "They all have faces, Bill. Focus." He cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his turtleneck, which he insisted made him look professional. "Right. So we're robbing a children's party." "We're relocating gifts," Molly said. "Forty-two presents, unattended while the kids are busy smashing a llama." "A llama?" "A piñata llama. Try to keep up." Bill crossed his arms. "I have concerns. Number one, children are terrifying. They can smell fear. Last time I walked past a playground, a toddler pointed at me and screamed, 'Bad man!'" "You were wearing a ski mask at a bus stop." "It was cold!" Molly sighed and pulled out a second sheet. "Which is why you won't be Bill. You'll be Bubbles the Clown." Bill went pale. "No." "You're the distraction. Balloon animals, a little juggling. Every eye on you while I slip through the hedge and clear the gift table." "Molly, I can't make balloon animals. Last time I tried, I made something that looked like a sad noodle and a boy cried." "Then make sad noodles. Kids love authenticity." He rubbed his temples. "And the parents? There'll be adults. Gary-from-accounting types who grill things aggressively." "That's where the cake comes in." Molly grinned and produced a photograph of a sheet cake shaped like an excavator. "Ten minutes before showtime, we swap the real cake for this one, which contains a mild, entirely legal amount of melatonin." "That's still awful." "It's a nap, Bill. We're giving them a gift too." Bill stared at her. "You're the only person I know who can make a felony sound like a wellness retreat." "Thank you." She rolled up the blueprint and tucked it under her arm. "Now, the getaway. I've rented a minivan with a 'Baby on Board' sticker. Nobody suspects a minivan." "Do we have a baby?" "We have a very realistic doll named Gerald." Bill opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. "Fine. But if a kid asks me to make a giraffe, I'm walking." "Deal," said Molly. "Now put on the nose." He looked at the red foam nose in her palm as though it were a live grenade. Then, with his dignity slowly leaving his body, he put it on. "It honks," Molly added. Bill squeezed it. It honked, loudly, and somewhere down the street a dog began to bark. "I hate this," he whispered. "You look adorable," said Molly, and handed him the juggling pins.