Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DABT3DVPTEK2ZNV4S622EY

The van idled behind the community hall, headlights off, engine wheezing like a retired accordion. Molly pressed her nose to the window and studied the banner glowing above the side door: HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, OLIVER! Bill cracked his knuckles. "Kitchen door. Grab the presents. Leave." Across the lawn, a bouncy castle shuddered to life, sighing as it filled with air. Molly pulled on a fake moustache and a neon vest reading PARTY SAFETY, then checked her reflection and sighed. She looked like a traffic cone wearing a moustache. "Perfect disguise," Bill said. "Don't encourage me." They slipped out of the van and crept toward the kitchen window. Inside, a clown was honking a horn in what sounded like a fierce argument with a toddler. Molly checked her watch. Forty minutes until the piñata, plenty of time to empty the gift table. The pile of presents looked suspiciously heavy, as if it contained bricks wrapped in Spider-Man paper. Bill reached for the back door handle, then froze. A small sign hung beside it: CAUTION, TODDLER AMBUSH ZONE. "Oh, come on," Molly whispered. "Nobody's ever been ambushed by a toddler."