Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TBHKVC9PEEBTWF908DBS7N

Molly spread the crayon-drawn blueprints across the hood of their getaway sedan, weighing the corners down with juice boxes. Across the street, the Henderson house glowed with balloons like a target begging to be hit. "Saturday, two p.m. Operation Party Crasher is a go." Bill squinted at the diagram, scratching his stubble. "Why the bouncy castle?" "Cover. Inflatable cover." "And the clown?" "Security. Amateur, but unpredictable." He traced a grubby finger along the fence line. "Garden entry?" "Petunias." Molly tapped the living room. "Forty presents. Minimum." "And the kids?" "Distraction team releases the piñata early. Chaos. Screaming. Sugar rush. We move in the confusion." Bill folded his arms, the sun glinting off his balding head. "Molly, this feels wrong." "It's a heist, Bill. It's supposed to feel wrong." "No, I mean—some of those are just socks." "Untraceable socks." "One kid's getting a puppy." Molly's marker hovered over the blueprint. Somewhere, a party horn honked, mournful as a goose. "We leave the puppy." "We take the gift bag though?" "We're not monsters, Bill. But we're not saints either." Bill sighed the sigh of a man who had survived seventeen of Molly's schemes, including the Great Church Raffle Incident. "Fine. But I'm not wearing the clown disguise again." "You'll wear what the job requires."