Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAFTA0TF09N35GGE15CFPS

The getaway van idled behind a hedge of frostbitten holly, headlights off, engine purring like a nervous cat. Molly drummed her gloved fingers on the steering wheel while Bill squinted at a map drawn in crayon, presumably by the party's six-year-old. Across the street, forty balloons bobbed above a sparkling mansion, and a clown on stilts juggled flaming torches with frightening confidence. Inside the house, somewhere past the cake table, the presents waited in a glittering mountain. Molly had studied the pattern for a week. Two grandmothers guarded the hallway, a hyperactive beagle patrolled the kitchen, and the birthday boy's father slept in a recliner after his third eggnog. "Ready?" Molly asked. "Born ready," Bill whispered, adjusting his reindeer-antler balaclava. "Only problem is the cake." "What about the cake?" "I'm allergic to frosting, and that cake is wall-to-wall buttercream." Molly sighed. Bill nodded solemnly, though he had clearly never once considered a plan without snacks. He tucked a napkin into his pocket, just in case, and checked the zipper of his duffel bag, which rattled ominously with what sounded like dozens of squeaky toys. Somewhere inside, the clown shrieked with laughter. Molly tucked a bag of rubber ducks under her arm and slipped out into the snow, the plan already unraveling beautifully.