Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA9CVX4ZN3RNBDPF5HXN2Z

The chipped Formica of the diner booth stuck to Molly’s elbows. She traced the floral pattern with a sugar packet, avoiding Bill’s gaze. He was enthusiastically sketching a floor plan on a napkin, using ketchup as ink. “Okay, so the bouncy castle is a definite distraction,” Bill announced, holding up the crimson-stained napkin. “Kids are magnetically drawn to those things. Creates a nice…present-access corridor.” “A corridor? Really, Bill? We’re robbing a six-year-old’s birthday, not infiltrating Fort Knox." “Details, Molly, details. We need a strategy. This isn't just *any* birthday party, this is little Timmy Henderson’s. His parents are loaded. Think solid gold Thomas the Tank Engine, vintage Lego sets…the good stuff.” “You’ve been casing the Henderson’s for a week, haven’t you?” “Research. Thorough research. And I’ve identified a weakness.” “Let me guess. The pinata?” “Almost! The clown.” Bill tapped the napkin with a french fry. “Absolute chaos merchant. He'll be juggling, making balloon animals that vaguely resemble poodles, generally ensuring no one keeps an eye on the loot.” “A clown. Our entire operation hinges on a clown.” Molly sighed, pushing a stray strand of purple hair behind her ear. “This is getting progressively more ridiculous.” “Ridiculously *profitable* is what it is. So, I was thinking, you handle crowd control. Distract the parents with…flattery? Compliment their questionable fashion choices? Pretend you’re a long-lost relative? You’re good at blending.” “Blending? I’m wearing a neon pink jumpsuit, Bill.” “It’s…festive! It’ll fit right in! Think undercover birthday enthusiast. You are a master of improvisation.” “I once convinced a security guard I was a visiting dignitary from Liechtenstein. By wearing a feather boa and speaking with a vaguely European accent.” “Perfect! See? Born for this. I’ll be over by the gift table. Quick in, quick out. Santa sack employed, naturally.” “Santa sack?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “It’s thematic! And large. Very large. Holds approximately forty-seven plush unicorns, I estimate.” “You’ve estimated the capacity of a Santa sack? Bill, I swear…” “Look, preparation is key! What if Timmy gets a disproportionate amount of plushies? We need to be prepared for all eventualities. So, blending, flattery, and a well-timed distraction from the clown. Are we clear?” “Crystal. Just promise me no face paint.” “No promises. It really completes the look.” Bill winked, then went back to his ketchup-stained floorplan, humming a jaunty tune. "Operation: Birthday Bonanza is a go!"