Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9MSP79DDQ0EHQ4V6PAFMR

"All right, Bill, take a look at that bouncy castle. It's our Everest." "It squeaks when the wind blows. Everest never squeaked." "Everest also didn't have a magician who makes rabbits anxious." "Anxious rabbits are a sign of weak security." "You're quoting yourself again, Molly." "I'm a classic. Now, the presents table. See the mountain of glittery boxes?" "I see a sugar-based economy in paper hats." "Exactly. We stroll in, blend with the chaos, liberate the goods." "We're stealing from a children’s party. You know how that sounds?" "Like a victimless crime with sprinkles." "Children are not victimless." "They get cake. We get wrapping paper rash. Balance." "What's our disguise?" "Option A: clowns." "I refuse to wear shoes that could house a family of raccoons." "Option B: balloon artists." "I can only make snakes." "Everyone can only make snakes, Bill. It's performance. Option C: backup dancers for the magician." "We don't know the moves." "We nod with jazz hands. Works in most cultures." "What about parents?" "Powerful, but distracted. Their natural enemy is frosting." "There's also the gift log. Some parties track who brought what." "Then we bring something. We trade up." "Trade up?" "We wrap a toaster. Leave it, take ten." "What if someone opens the toaster?" "We put a note: 'For a future full of warm bread.' They’ll cry." "I feel my conscience poking me." "Tell it to wait in the car with the engine running." "We don't have a car." "My point exactly. No getaway, no plan?" "Fine. We'll borrow a wagon." "A wagon is conspicuous." "So are we. Embrace it. If we swagger with purpose, people assume we're supposed to be there." "What about the cake-cutting countdown? That’s when chaos peaks." "We move during the candle song. It's a sonic smokescreen." "I don't know the words." "Nobody does. They just clap aggressively." "And if a toddler clamps onto my leg like a koala?" "Smile, compliment their sticker, pivot." "Pivot to where?" "Toward the exit, Bill. Goodness." "How do we handle the piñata?" "Duck. Never look a papier-mâché unicorn in the eye." "You've got a map in your head, don't you?" "Entrance, hats, face-paint station, presents, cake, bounce zone, exit. Like a sacred pilgrimage." "And we carry what, exactly?" "Sacks. Festive sacks." "From where?" "From within. I am spiritually burlap." "You terrify me." "Focus. We go in cheerful, leave mysterious." "What if the magician actually is good and makes our loot disappear?" "Then I marry him for the secret." "You're already married." "To the job, Bill. And to a man who thinks cilantro is a personality." "I need a line. Something to say if we’re stopped." "Try, 'We’re from the Department of Gift Optimization.'" "That's not a thing." "It is when you say it with a clipboard." "Do we have a clipboard?" "I am manifesting one." "You can't manifest office supplies." "Watch me." A car honked three streets over, and a flock of balloon animals trembled in the window display. The sun glanced off the streamers draped over the backyard fence. Somewhere, a recorder practiced the same four notes until time quit. Bill rubbed his temples. "We could just get part-time jobs." "Jobs don't include confetti." "Neither do felonies, usually." "Relax. Today we’re philanthropists. We’re redistributing expectations." "From small hands to ours." "With gratitude. Now smile like you've never stolen a fruit roll-up." "I haven't." "We'll fix that." They rose in unison and straightened invisible ties. Under the paper sky of pennants and squeals, the world seemed light enough to pocket.