Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6KFH5MWKK6RWXZ19B97QM

Bill lowered the binoculars. Across the street, a bouncy castle shuddered under a pack of five-year-olds while a clown honked at a birthday cake. He sighed. "Remind me why we rob birthday parties." Molly checked the laminated schedule. "Rich parents hire clowns, not guards. Presents stack by the castle until cake." "We look like tax auditors." "Tax auditors with balloons. It's a disguise." Bill rubbed his chin. "What about the clown?" "He's the distraction. We distract him." "That's not a plan. That's a sentence." Molly tapped the map. "Phase one: inflate the emergency giraffe. Phase two: gift-wrap avalanche. Phase three: petting zoo." "There's a petting zoo?" "Three goats and an angry rabbit. Keep moving." Bill sighed. "I once stole from a warlord. This is worse." "Less talk, more tactical whimsy." The van smelled of wet balloons and stale coffee. Bill unfolded a party map covered in crayon arrows, most of them leading to the cake table, which Molly had marked with a skull and crossbones. Outside, a clown wrestled a helium tank while a parent in yoga pants negotiated with a face painter. The bouncy castle sagged, then surged, and three children tumbled out like laundry from a dryer. Bill watched the presents pyramid rise beside a tablecloth princess who had seen better days. He felt a brief moral twinge, then remembered the silver box and the warlord story and decided morality was a luxury item. Molly tightened her ponytail, checked her pocket for zip ties, and hummed a lullaby that sounded suspiciously like a getaway theme. They watched a parent in linen carry a silver box to the pile. Bill's eyes narrowed. "That one. That's the good one." "No, that's a decoy. Good stuff is under the princess tablecloth. See the crooked candle?" "All candles are crooked." "Exactly. Suspicious." A child screamed happily. Bill flinched. "I don't like the noise." "You'll love it. It covers stealing. When the magician asks for a volunteer—" "I am not getting in the box." "You're getting in the box." "Last time I got shipped to Cleveland." Bill adjusted his bow tie until it looked less like a ransom note and more like a party guest. At the gate, a clown honked a horn; Bill honked back, then apologized to a balloon animal. Molly handed him the empty present labeled For the Birthday Boy and reminded him with a glance that this was a simple in-and-out job, assuming the petting zoo stayed calm. They entered beneath a banner that announced five years of joy. Inside, children sang off-key while a magician sawed a cardboard box in half. Bill carried the decoy gift toward the silver box, stepping over a juice pouch and a small child dressed as a dinosaur. Molly checked the candles, the exits, and the goat situation. Somewhere a toddler bit a clown. The noise covered everything, which was the plan. Bill reached the silver box, smiled at the birthday boy, and whispered the only line Molly had approved. "Happy birthday to us."