Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFBYY5CRV3J4ASPXMJ48CSE

The spreadsheet glowed in the dim van light. “So,” Molly whispered, tapping the screen. “We go in as the entertainment. I’m ‘Princess Sparkle.’ You’re the clown.” Bill stared at his sequined pants. “I look like a disco ball had a nightmare. What’s our exit strategy?” “After the cake, during the ‘Pin the Tail on the Donkey’ chaos. We swap the gift pile for the decoy bag. The real loot goes out the back, hidden in the giant stuffed unicorn.” “What about security?” Bill asked, adjusting his squeaky nose. “Please. It’s Mr. Henderson. He’ll be three sherries deep and asleep in the garden chair by 4:15.” “And the presents?” Molly grinned. “Junior’s got a solid-gold piggy bank from Grandma. The twins each got a diamond-encrusted rattle. It’s an insult to childhood, really. We’re doing a public service.” Bill sighed, the bow of his wig drooping. “Right. A public service. That’s what the judge will say.” The van pulled up to the suburban house. Balloons bobbed. A banner read ‘Happy 5th Birthday, Alistair!’ “Showtime,” Molly said, pulling on a glittering tiara. “Try not to trip over your own dignity.”