Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9PSKQ3R6GDTQ5B1VT8ZX3Z

Molly peered through the hedge at balloons, paper crowns, and children circling a dinosaur cake with the zeal of tiny savages. Bill crouched beside her in a fake caterer’s apron, looking offended by frosting. Beyond the gate, a mountain of presents glittered under a banner reading HAPPY SIXTH, OLIVER. A clown on stilts drifted past like a tax nightmare, while a magician sneezed sparks into the lemonade and startled a grandmother into swearing. “Bill, tell me that’s not a pony.” “It’s rented. Ethically, that’s half a pony.” “We take the presents, smile warmly, and leave.” “Smile? Molly, I steal. I do not mingle.” “You’re wearing gravy as a disguise.” “Parents trust stains. It says buffet competence.” “What about the clown?” “Nobody notices theft near a balloon animal.” “And the magician?” “If he produces a rabbit, we retreat.” “Why?” “I refuse to be outsmarted by symbolism.” “Fine. Grab the tablecloth and keep moving.” “Confident, aren’t we?” “No, Bill. I’m festive.” “Good, because the pony’s staring like it knows my probation officer by name personally.” She adjusted her paper hat, sighed, and slipped toward the gate. Bill followed with an empty tray and the doomed confidence of an uncle volunteering for Christmas.