Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ9153CV41552HM4TV1MS5W

The alley behind Sunshine Party Rentals smelled like old balloons and poor decisions. Bill crouched behind a dumpster, holding a hand-drawn map covered in crayon because that was the only paper he could find. Molly stood over him, arms crossed, deeply regretting every choice that had led to this moment. "Okay, walk me through it again," Molly said. "Right. So the birthday party starts at two. We go in at three, when the cake comes out. Everyone looks at the cake. Nobody looks at the presents." "And you think seven-year-olds are sophisticated enough to be distracted by cake?" "Molly, adults are distracted by cake. Seven-year-olds basically worship cake. Cake is their religion." "That is the smartest thing you have ever said, and I find that genuinely upsetting." Bill smoothed out the crayon map with considerable pride. "I drew the bouncy castle here." "Why is the bouncy castle relevant?" "It's not. I just thought it looked cool." Molly snatched the map and studied it. A purple scribble dominated the center of what appeared to be a rectangle. She turned it sideways. Then upside down. "Bill, which way is north?" "It's a birthday party, not a military operation." "Every operation needs a north." "Fine, the bouncy castle is north. Happy?" "Ecstatic." She handed it back. "What about the dog? You said there was a dog." "Biscuit. Golden retriever. Extremely friendly, total liability." "Meaning what?" "Meaning if Biscuit sees us he will follow us everywhere and also probably lick the presents." "Can we use Biscuit as a distraction?" Bill's eyes went wide. "That is genuinely brilliant." "I have my moments." "We throw Biscuit a tennis ball toward the bouncy castle, kids chase Biscuit, Biscuit causes chaos, we grab the presents and walk calmly to the van." "The van that has 'Totally Normal Florist' written on the side." "People don't question flowers, Molly." "People absolutely question flowers arriving at a child's birthday party with no flowers inside." "We could put one flower in there." "One flower." "A nice one. Something cheerful. A sunflower, maybe." Molly stared at him for a long moment. A pigeon landed nearby, looked at them both, and flew away as if it had better options. "Let me just confirm," Molly said slowly, "that we are stealing presents from a seven-year-old named, according to your crayon map, Princess Butterscotch." "That's what it says on the banner." "That may not be her legal name, Bill." "Legally she is Emma Henderson of 14 Primrose Close, but spiritually she is Princess Butterscotch and you have to respect the branding." "I don't think I have to respect anything about this situation." "Are you in or not?" Molly looked at the map, at the van, at the single sunflower Bill had produced from somewhere inside his jacket like a magician with terrible priorities. "Get the tennis ball," she said.