Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DADJSQQAV9XJHFNMBQZTM3

Molly leaned across the rickety card table, squinting at the blueprints. "Okay, Bill. Walk me through it again. The party is at the Henderson house, seven o'clock sharp." "Seven sharp," Bill said, tapping a pen against his teeth. "Clown's already booked. Bouncy castle's inflating as we speak. And the gift table sits right beside the back patio doors." "Perfect. And the mother?" "Patricia Henderson. Former ballet instructor. Her ears are like a bat's, Molly. She'll hear a wrapping paper crinkle from three rooms away." "So we don't crinkle." Molly tapped the blueprint. "We wear socks over our shoes. Silent, like ninjas." "Ninjas don't wear socks." "Ninjas wear whatever they want, Bill. That's the beauty of ninjas." Bill sighed and scribbled something on a napkin. "Fine. Socks. But what about the dog?" "What dog?" "The sheet says there's a dog. Named Sprinkles." Molly stared at him. "Bill, why would a dog be named Sprinkles?" "Why would a clown be named Mr. Bubbles? Life's full of mysteries." "Okay, we bring treats. Pocket full of bacon bits. Sprinkles is ours." "Bacon bits aren't a dog treat, Molly." "They are now." Bill flipped the page. "Next problem. The birthday boy. Tyler, age six. He's been told he can't open presents until the cake is cut, and he's already threatened to sit on the gift table himself." "Six-year-olds are feral, Bill. We need a distraction." "I've got one." He grinned, pulling a plastic bag from under the table. Inside was a sizable pile of glitter, a whistle, and a rubber chicken. "We create a diversion in the kitchen. Glitter bomb. Chicken-based chaos." "Where did you even get a rubber chicken?" "Don't ask about the chicken." Molly laughed despite herself. "Fine. But when we're out, you're carrying the Lego set. Last time you dropped the Barbie Dreamhouse and I didn't speak to you for a week." "That was a structural accident. The roof was basically a suggestion." "Bill, a six-year-old cried for three hours." "A thief's tears are sacred, Molly. Let's go." They grabbed their black hoodies, a sack labeled "Party Favors," and a squeaky toy for emergencies. At the door, Molly paused. "Bill?" "Yeah?" "If we get caught, we pretend we're the magician." "We don't have a magician costume." "Then we improvise."