Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAWQJ8CJD9EVP91ME5M75Z

In the rented storage unit, confetti drifted like dust motivated by mischief. Molly spread blueprints that were actually placemats from a pirate-themed diner. Bill balanced on a folding chair, practicing a bow grand enough to distract an auditorium of toddlers. A balloon pump wheezed heroic music; a rubber chicken stared, complicit. They rehearsed smiles calibrated to aunt-proof sincerity. He circled a stick figure cake with a crayon, she drew a wagon wearing a monocle. The plan, if it could be called that, relied on charisma, coincidence, and cupcakes. Even footprints would be festive. Distant kazooing promised opportunity or foreshadowed doom. "Molly, we need a plan with panache, not prison laundry." "Bill prefers panache, but also prefers walking away convincingly innocent." "Children's parties are fortresses of frosting; morale melts under sprinkles." "Right, we infiltrate as entertainment, dignified magicians with inflatable dignity." "My act: vanish cupcakes; your act: produce decoys from nowhere." "Decoys wrapped in thunderous paper, distracting parents into applause reflex." "Meanwhile, we wheel the real treasure aboard our noble wagon." "Noble wagon squeaks like a confession; we need stealthy glitter." "Glitter is stealthy; witnesses sparkle, forget why they're smiling anyway." "Contingency: if pinata riots erupt, we blame the hired giraffe."