Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAXCFXR7Y78CMRQZ1DHGCD

Molly spread the blueprint over frosting smears, a tactical map of paper crowns and inflatable castles. Bill adjusted his black beanie, which had a sparkly unicorn stitched to the front, a taunt from destiny. The van smelled like sugar and rubber chickens. They were about to infiltrate the most fortified facility known to suburbia: a backyard at peak cupcake hour. "We need tiny shoes, bigger sacks, and excellent balloon camouflage," Molly said, tapping the bouncy house like it owed her money. Bill checked the schedule, which he’d stolen from a magician’s clipboard during rehearsal, complete with glitter fingerprints. "Fine, but clowns bite; bring cake decoys and a map," he replied, practicing a smile that collapsed into a guilty crescent. They rehearsed their route with gummy bears as pawns. The dragon piñata was a sentry; the gift table, a gleaming vault guarded by frosting-glazed grandparents. A sprinkler rotated like a sleepy laser. Somewhere, a dog trained in cupcake retrieval patrolled. Bill pocketed confetti like lock picks. Molly holstered ribbon cutters, holier than knives. Wind chimes whispered code. Over the fence, balloons bobbed, pink periscopes of peril. The playlist escalated; Baby Shark meant chaos cover. At precisely candle blowout, they’d move, unseen.