Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FXHCZ9XTS267GM2HDERT9S

Molly tapped the blueprint with a grimy fingernail. "Right. The party's in the Hendersons' back garden, third house past the oak. Forty-two presents, according to the invitation. Forty-two, Bill." Bill squinted at the paper, then at his own reflection in the car window. He'd painted his face with boot polish for the occasion. It was not, in hindsight, his finest decision. "Do we really need the polish? Nobody's looking at me." "The clown is looking at you," Molly said flatly. "Every child on that lawn is looking at the clown. That's the whole point of the clown." "There's a clown?" "There's a clown, a bouncy castle, and a man with a balloon animal kit who looks like he's been arrested before. Which is why we go in at the cake. Nobody watches the cake like they watch the clown." Bill nodded slowly, as though this made perfect sense. "And the plan is we grab the presents and run?" "The plan is we grab the presents, stack them in the wheelbarrow, and wheel them out past the bouncy castle like we're the delivery van. Nobody stops a delivery van." "I'm not sure a wheelbarrow is a delivery van, Molly." "It is if you're confident enough." She shoved a pair of oversized reindeer antlers at him. "Wear these. Nobody asks questions about a man in antlers." Bill put them on. A small bell jingled somewhere in the headband. "Molly, I think I've got something stuck in the left one." "That's a sensor, Bill. It's fine." "Why would a child's party have a sensor?" "Because the Hendersons are paranoid, and the last time someone nicked the good Lego, the dad threatened the whole street with a leaf blower. Don't touch anything with a blinking light." They crept through the side gate, pushing the wheelbarrow as quietly as a wheelbarrow allows, which is not quietly at all. A toddler in a dinosaur costume spotted them immediately. "Are you Santa?" the toddler asked Bill, eyes wide. Bill froze. "Yes," he whispered. "You're not Santa. Santa doesn't have boot polish on his face." "Santa's very modern," Molly hissed. "Grab the purple one. The one with the bow." Bill grabbed the purple one. Then a yellow one. Then, after some thought, a box that was clearly a bicycle. The toddler clapped delightedly. "Is that my bike?" "No," said Molly and Bill together. Behind them, a balloon animal popped with a sound like a gunshot, and every grown-up in the garden turned around. "Run," Molly said. "Which way?" "Away from the clown!"