Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TBNA4E6VQYVVP5M5X8KZ05

Molly unrolled the blueprints across the hood of Bill's borrowed hatchback, weighing down the corners with juice boxes and a wounded-looking piñata. She stabbed a finger at the crayon diagram, which featured stick figures, a dragon that might have been a dog, and a large X over the gift table. "The bouncy castle is our exit." Bill squinted. He trusted Molly's plans the way he trusted gas station sushi: completely, and against all evidence. "What's the code?" Bill asked. "Stop, drop, and roll." "That's for fires." Molly had spent three weeks casing the Hendersons' backyard disguised as a clown, which backfired when the children found her funnier than the real clown and demanded she perform at the party itself. Now she had a legitimate invitation, a balloon animal alibi, and a unicycle getaway if things went sideways. Bill's job was the loot sack. He had practiced by robbing his own pantry and been bitten by the cat only twice, which he counted as a personal best. If they got caught, the fallback plan was simple: blend in with the guests. "Act seven years old," Molly said. Bill nodded solemnly. He had been preparing for that role his entire adult life.