Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C67D3DB488WWB5R9QV4WRZ

The van’s heater coughed like a smoker. Molly wiped condensation from the window and watched a clown wrestle a bouncy castle through a side gate. Bill adjusted his fake mustache in the rearview mirror, then checked the bag of glitter tucked beside the parking brake. Across the street, thirty children screamed in a garden strung with balloons, and a mother in yoga pants carried a cake shaped like a unicorn. The clown had a tattoo of a crying eagle and kept glancing at the van with the weary suspicion of a man who had been robbed before. Bill claimed that was normal clown behavior. Molly knew it was not. "Remind me why we're robbing a six-year-old," Molly said. "The aquarium had guards. This has cupcakes." Molly snorted. "And thirty sugared-up kids. Biohazard with party hats." Bill shrugged. "We go as entertainment. You're the magician. I'm the assistant." "You set your shoes on fire in seventh grade." "Science experiment. Presents are by the piano. Wait for cake, scoop, go." "Through toddlers? They swarm like gulls." "I deploy pocket confetti. Non-toxic." Molly stared at him. "You confetti a party and walk out with boxes? Why not wear a thief shirt?" "Tacky. Timeline: clown, cake, presents. Need mom's side-door keys." "She's a marathon runner. She'll chase us to the county line." "We trip her with a jump rope. Thematically." Molly sighed and rubbed her temples. "Fine. I'm the photographer. Photographers are invisible." Bill shook his head. "Photographers get asked for group shots. Death spiral." "Then I'm the clown's union rep. Nobody questions union reps." "What do I do?" "Stand by presents. Clipboard. Inventory." "If a kid asks?" "Surprise audit. Kids respect audits." Bill wrote that down on a napkin. Outside, the clown dropped the bouncy castle on a rose bush and swore in two languages. Molly pulled on a plain black cap, checked the time, and calculated how many seconds of screaming would cover their escape. The party was loud enough to hide a small explosion, but the mother looked like she could sprint through a car wash without getting wet. Bill tucked the glitter into his jacket, which bulged like a guilty piñata. Bill had once tried to disguise himself as a birthday magician by taping a rabbit to his hat. The rabbit had escaped, bitten a vicar, and ruined a wedding. Molly still had the rabbit’s dental records in her glovebox for legal reasons. The plan had three moving parts and two of them were Bill. Molly grabbed his sleeve before he could open the van door and reminded him that glitter on the getaway path meant a lifetime of explaining himself to toddlers. Bill nodded, patted the bulge, and whispered that the clown still owed him twenty bucks. They slipped out. The side gate hung open. Somewhere inside, a chorus of children screamed for cake, and Molly wondered why she had agreed to a heist where the security system was a woman with a whistle and a balloon animal.