Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPT53G1VHT7RAGSDEV3T12

The rainbow-bright piñata swayed ominously in the breeze, its papier-mâché grin taunting Molly from across the backyard. She adjusted her oversized "Party Mom" name tag—*Hi! I’m Carol!*—and sidled up to Bill, who was currently pretending to be a face-painting artist with all the subtlety of a bull in a tutu. His attempt at a butterfly on a six-year-old’s cheek looked suspiciously like a Rorschach test gone wrong. “You’re going to traumatize that kid,” Molly muttered, nudging a plate of half-eaten cupcakes aside with her hip. “Also, the clown’s watching you. The *real* one.” Bill wiped his hands on his apron, leaving streaks of glittery blue across his already questionable mustache. “Relax. I’m building trust. Parents love an artist who *commits*.” “You’re committing a crime against art.” She nodded toward the gift table, a fortress of wrapping paper and ribbon. “Three minutes till the cake. That’s our window.” “You sure the motion sensor’s disabled?” “Unless someone’s hiding in the sprinkler system, yeah.” Bill cracked his knuckles. “Then let’s make these kids the most disappointed generation since the ones who got coal.” Molly sighed. “You’re *supposed* to be the heartless one. I’m the one with the tragic backstory.” “Fine.” He grabbed a handful of balloons. “I’ll cry on cue. *‘Woe is me, my goldfish died…’*” “Your goldfish *was* a cracker.”