Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8P05N6KQESAWPQ0PAQQT6

They huddled behind a maple, Molly's flashlight cutting through the dusk. "Piñata's a decoy," she said, poking a finger at the tattered donkey. "Ice cream truck's parked by the fence—hear it? Chimes? They'll be preoccupied." Bill adjusted his read, a pair of neon swim goggles. "What if the cake's not vanilla? We agreed—" "Vanilla. Iced with 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' in neon sprinkles. I checked the invite." He nodded, eyeing the loot pile: stuffed bears, a play kitchen, a Lego set taller than his boot. "Too much," he muttered. "Scar the kid?" "Scar 'em with a lack of presents? Worse than a piñata to the skull. Now, you distract the clown. He's got a red nose the size of a watermelon—swing a Whoopee Cushion near it. Kids'll lose their minds. I'll load the van. Use the piñata as a shield—if anyone asks, you're whacking a sugar rush out of Timmy." Bill fetched the cushion, then paused. "You sure about the Lego set? Little Jimmy's probably attached." Molly grinned. "Jimmy's in a booster seat. He won't miss it. Now go—before the clowns start balloon animals." He shuffled off, tripping over a deflated mylar balloon. She laughed, tucking a stuffed rabbit into a burlap sack. The party rose in a chorus of "Mine!" Timmy, the birthday boy, kicked a balloon. It bounced into her knee. She ignored it. The plan was solid.