Run: 2026-03-09-01KKAC79Q6QWB8RRMHRQV5C3ZC

“Bill, this is either genius or the sort of idea that gets us pelted with cupcakes.” “Cupcakes wash off. Jewels don’t usually come wrapped in dinosaur paper, Molly.” “They do tonight. Twelve gifts, one bounce castle, three exhausted parents, and a magician with the eyes of a tax inspector.” “I’ve accounted for the magician.” “How?” “I’m his rabbit.” “You are not.” “I borrowed the costume. Ears, tail, existential shame, the lot.” “Fine. I distract the adults?” “With what?” “A clipboard and purpose. Nobody questions a woman with purpose.” “And I sweep the presents into the catering van.” “The van says ‘Princess Sparkle Entertainment.’” “Exactly. Who suspects a glitter unicorn?” “Bill, last time you said that, we escaped in a petting-zoo trailer.” “And flawlessly.” “We smelled like alpaca for weeks.” “Focus. At cake-cutting, the children surge forward, the parents produce cameras, and civilization collapses.” “I hate how right you are.” “You’ll love this part. We leave a decoy pile.” “Of what?” “Educational books.” “That’s not a decoy. That’s a declaration of war.” “Children never unwrap those first.” “One child will. There’ll be screaming.” “There’s already screaming. It’s a children’s party.” “What about the clown?” “Bribed.” “With cash?” “With a better balloon pump.” “Bill, you magnificent idiot, let’s rob some minors.” “Metaphorically, Molly. We’re stealing from their rich aunties.”