Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FYGE8GTQA0DXDBS9QH65XE

The getaway van idled behind the bouncy castle warehouse, headlights off, engine coughing like a retired accountant. Molly spread the blueprints across the dashboard and tapped a cartoon rainbow labeled "Present Room." Bill leaned in, squinting through the grease on his glasses. Beyond the fence, a children's party roared with laughter and the thump of a rented DJ. "Party starts at two," Molly whispered. Bill cracked his knuckles, the sound like tiny firecrackers in the still air. Molly glared, and he quickly tucked his hands into his coveralls. They had planned everything: the fake ice cream van, the costumes of a giant hot dog and a sleepy llama, and duffel bags reinforced with duct tape and optimism. "Balloons are the tricky part. Don't pop them." Bill nodded solemnly, as if he had ever kept anything from popping in his life. He had once sat on a birthday cake at his nephew's party, and nobody had let him forget it. Molly pulled a rubber clown nose from her pocket and clipped it onto the rearview mirror. "Stay in the llama suit," she said, "and act natural." The bouncy castle beside them sagged, slowly deflating, as if it had given up on the whole evening. Molly grinned, adjusted her hot dog bun, and slid out of the van. Bill followed, one llama hoof clunking against the gravel, and together they crept toward a mountain of glittering gifts.