Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TP79FNC5A6KGDGDYJ9P9PP

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of their getaway Honda, which doubled as their regular Honda. "The bouncy castle is our entry point. Kids' attention spans are forty seconds, tops." Bill squinted at the crayon arrows. "What's this arrow labeled 'clown variable'?" "Unpredictable element. Clowns improvise. We can't control that." "Should we wear disguises?" "Obviously. You're the magician. I'm the face painter." Molly tapped the diagram where she'd drawn a stick figure drowning in gift wrap. "Presents go in the sack labeled 'donations.' Nobody questions donations." Bill nodded slowly, the way he did when he understood roughly half of a plan. "And the cake?" "Cake is not the objective, Bill." "But it's right there." "Cake. Is not. The objective." A balloon popped somewhere in the distance, and both of them dropped to the pavement. Molly peeked over the bumper. A toddler waved at them. Molly waved back. "That's called reconnaissance." "Felt like flinching." "Professional flinching." She folded the blueprint into a neat paper crane; she'd read that criminals with flair got lighter sentences. "Synchronize watches. The piñata drops at two. That's our window." "What if the kids fight back?" Molly sighed, surrounded by amateurs. "Then we negotiate, Bill. We're thieves, not monsters."