Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6KGS1RA1PA7M85XX72XW6

Bill spread the party invitation across the stolen card table, smoothing its glittery corner with the solemnity of a man presenting a treasure map. The invitation promised pony rides, a magician named Marvelous Marvin, and a gift table organized alphabetically by child. Molly stared at it while chewing the end of a pencil that had already surrendered. Rain tapped the van roof like a suspicious neighbor. “Thirty kids, one piñata, and a bouncy castle with a waiver. We go in as caterers and take the presents during cake.” “Caterers? You smile like a tax audit.” “Pandas, then. Nobody questions a panda with a sack.” Molly turned the invitation around. On the back, Bill had drawn a stick figure labeled security; it wore a bow tie and held a balloon animal. She tapped the drawing with her pencil and noted that the balloon animal appeared to be armed. “The magician owes me a favor. He’ll distract the parents with a rabbit and a mild explosion.” “A mild explosion at a children’s party.” Bill produced a folder of floor plans, each page annotated in enthusiastic handwriting. The gift table sat between the cake and the bouncy castle, a placement he had circled three times and labeled golden triangle. A note in the margin read pony equals problem, then, beneath it, pony equals solution. Molly suspected the pony had signed something. “You want to steal the pony too?” “No. The pony is already in the van.” Molly closed her eyes and counted to five. When she opened them, Bill was holding two giant panda heads, both smelling faintly of mothballs and old victory. He set them on the table like centerpieces and adjusted one ear with a tenderness usually reserved for explosives. “The heads are roomy. We can hide the smaller gifts inside.” “And the larger gifts?” “The laundry cart. We dress it as a cake.” “A birthday cake with wheels. It’s festive.” Molly studied the plan, then the panda heads, then Bill’s expression, which was hopeful in the way a raccoon is hopeful about an unlocked bin. She circled the gift table once more and wrote escape route beside the garden gate. Bill leaned over and added bamboo truck in the margin, underlining it twice for confidence. “The getaway van has a bamboo decal. It’s a delivery truck now. Very legitimate.” “The rabbit is part of the plan. It creates chaos. Chaos is cover.” Molly set down the pencil. The pencil, relieved, rolled off the table and under the van seat. She looked at the invitation again, at the alphabetized gifts and the pony-related notes, and felt the familiar ache of a plan that was either brilliant or a future courtroom anecdote. Outside, the rain kept tapping. “Fine. We take the presents. No cake. No pony. No bouncy castle.” Bill nodded solemnly and began inflating a spare panda head. The giant panda head still swelled very slowly like a balloon with a criminal record and absolutely no regrets whatsoever. “It’s for reconnaissance.”