Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6FM985GVE9SZ2YJ6892NA

Molly unfolded the party map across the dashboard while Bill polished a juice box with a tactical wipe. Outside, a bouncy castle wheezed beneath a banner for Timmy’s sixth birthday, and three clowns argued near the face-painting booth. “The perimeter is clowns, cake, and Brenda,” Molly said. “Brenda guards the presents like a dragon with frosting issues.” “I’m worried about the swag bin,” Bill said. “Every gift goes by the bouncy castle. We lift the bin, we’re golden.” “We are not lifting a bin full of toy trucks in front of forty toddlers. Toddlers are unreliable witnesses with sticky hands.” “So we go in as entertainment. I do magic. You do the grab.” “Your magic is pulling a quarter from a six-year-old’s ear. That’s assault with change.” “Fine. I’ll be the dinosaur mascot. Nobody questions a dinosaur carrying presents.” “Nobody questions a dinosaur because they’re screaming. Brenda will tase you.” “Brenda doesn’t have a taser.” “Brenda has a whistle and a look. The look is worse.” Bill tapped the map and squinted at the bouncy castle, where a birthday banner flapped in the wind. “We need a distraction. Pin the tail on the donkey, but the donkey is accidentally on fire.” “No fire. Last time you said tiny fire, and the insurance company sent us a pamphlet on arson.” “That pamphlet was laminated. Very professional.” Molly sighed and checked the party schedule. “Clean, quiet, festive. I go in as the balloon artist. I make a poodle, a sword, and a diversionary octopus. You slip the presents into the unicorn piñata.” “The piñata is empty. It’s for hitting.” “Exactly. Nobody suspects the thing they’re about to beat with a stick.” Bill considered the parents clustered near the cake table, already trading passive-aggressive remarks about gluten. The dashboard was littered with evidence of previous jobs: a laminated arson pamphlet, three expired coupons for clown college, and a polaroid of Bill dressed as a traffic cone. Molly pulled the van’s sun visor down and watched a parent wrestle a juice box away from a toddler who had clearly been training for this exact conflict. The bouncy castle sagged, rebounded, and issued a squeak that sounded like a budget being stretched. Near the gate, Brenda folded her arms and surveyed the party with the calm authority of someone who had once ejected a magician for sawing a birthday cake in half. Bill checked his watch twice, then a third time, as if expecting the schedule to apologize. The plan was simple, festive, and only mildly illegal. That was the problem. Molly folded the map into a paper hat and placed it on Bill’s head, where it immediately sagged. It was not a good sign. Bill saluted anyway. Molly groaned. “What about them?” “Cake and small talk buy us a four-minute window after Happy Birthday and before the sugar crash.” “And the children?” “Children see everything but report nothing accurately. By the time they describe us, we’ll be a dragon and a talking balloon.” “I want to be the dragon.” “You’re the balloon.” “I’m not being a balloon. Balloons pop.” “Then don’t get caught.” Bill frowned at the piñata. “One more thing. What if the presents are wrapped?” Molly stared at him until he checked the map again. “Bill. We’re stealing presents from a children’s party. Wrapped is the least of our problems.”