Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAGWH3G99HPRNA9J9JXJ22

The community center squatted under balloons like a suspect pretending to be cheerful. Molly sketched a battle plan on a napkin sticky with box casualties, mapping exits, gift tables, and the inflatable unicorn named Sir Neighs-a-Lot. Bill scoped the perimeter through a window painted with finger suns, noting the cupcake minefield and a clown dabbing. "Molly, we hit the bouncy castle at midnight," Bill whispered. "Focus. Wrapping paper rustles like alarms," she said. "Disguises?" "Clowns." "Terrifying." "Grab bows, quietly." Between them lay a duffel of morally complicated sacks, glitter-proof gloves, and a squeaker for plausible innocence. A DJ rehearsed Baby Shark; shadows did the choreography of regret. Molly checked her watch, a prize from a cereal box sweepstakes; it ticked with the gravity of confetti. They rehearsed the silent handshake: tap, tap, jazz hands. Bill had practiced crawling under tables; he could recite the underside of a folding chair. The security team consisted of toddlers hopped up on fondant and one grandmother who could smell mischief across counties. Plan: infiltrate as party entertainers, misdirect with balloon giraffes, liberate parcels, exfiltrate via piñata confusion. Contingency: surrender a decoy gift labeled For Grandma (contains kale). The night tasted like frosting and fear.