Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09C6AAT5BZDPC9CBP0PN7R

The neon glow of the children’s party venue flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted the tiny party hat perched precariously on her dark curls. Beside her, Bill—dressed in a suspiciously large clown costume—adjusted his oversized shoes with a grunt. “You *sure* this is gonna work?” Bill muttered, his voice muffled by the oversized red nose. “I look like a guy who gave up on life after one too many failed birthday robberies.” Molly rolled her eyes, tugging at the glittery tiara they’d had to steal from a party supply store just to blend in. “Relax. It’s not rocket science. We walk in, act like we belong, and by the time anyone notices, we’re out with the good stuff.” Bill peeked through the frayed edge of the clown collar. “And if someone asks who we are?” “We’re the *magical* guest stars,” Molly said, deadpan. “Kids eat that up.” Bill groaned. “I hate kids.” “Not planning on making friends,” Molly replied, smoothing out the ruffles on her dress. “Just keep your ‘ha-ha’ face on and follow my lead.” The double doors swung open, releasing a wave of laughter and sugary chaos. A harried woman in a fairy-wing headband waved them toward the cake table. “Yay! More adults! Kids need role models!” Molly hooked her arm through Bill’s, forcing a saccharine grin. “We’re the *surprise* entertainment.” Bill’s eye twitched under the clown makeup. “I’m gonna regret this.” The party was a wreckage of balloons, half-eaten cupcakes, and children running amok with the energy of a caffeine IV drip. Molly deftly plucked a remote-controlled car from the gift table while Bill attempted to “accidentally” knock over a piñata stand. “Watch the glitter,” Molly hissed as a cloud of rainbow confetti exploded into the air. Bill flailed, sending a toddler’s juice box flying. “Oops.” A little girl with pigtails pointed at Bill. “You’re not funny.” Bill’s shoulders stiffened. “And you’re not the boss of me.” Molly yanked him toward the exit, clutching a bag overflowing with stuffed animals and action figures. “We’re leaving before the cops show up *or* the parents ask why you’re sulking under the balloon arch.” Bill paused at the door, glancing back at the chaos. “Worth it.” Molly adjusted her tiara. “Next time, we hit the adult parties. No glitter, no screaming, and best of all—*alcohol*.” Bill’s eyes gleamed. “Now *that’s* a plan.”