Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ7V4VQ84XPJYH10S1VFBY3

Molly adjusted her neon tiara in the van’s rearview mirror, her voice crisp as a freshly popped balloon. “Bill, you’re wearing the squirrel suit *inside* the tutu. It’s called layering. James Bond doesn’t exactly host birthday bashes in tuxedos, does he?” Bill tugged at the tutu’s ruffled leg, his face the color of a traffic cone. “Bond’s also never been chased by a kid with a giggle and a flashlight. What if they guess we’re not balloon artists? What if they ask us to blow up a giraffe?” “They won’t,” Molly said, tossing him a sequined glove. “We stick to the perimeter, snag the gifts, and vanish before cake. Simple. The real challenge is avoiding the principal’s pet—alligator. Remember, *don’t* feed him any piñatas.” Bill gaped. “You told me it was a *fancy* dog. Why’s there a gator in a party vest?!” “Relax,” Molly said, stepping into the party’s bounce house like a cat burglar in a ballroom. “The gator’s vest is rigged to a motion sensor. I’ll disable it when we pass. Just follow the glitter trail.” Inside, a pack of toddlers shrieked over a bounce house that spelled “SURPRISE!” in sagging letters. Bill tripped over a My Little Pony, then straightened his squirrel mask. “Glitter trail? Molly, there’s glitter *everywhere*. How do I know which sparkle leads to the loot?” “Left of the Minecraft cake,” she murmured, nudging him toward a table stacked with presents. “Wrap the gifts in that banner—” “‘Happy 6th Birthday, Baby Bro!’” Bill read, eyeing a pacifier-shaped microphone. “Molly, these aren’t just toys. This is *art*. That LEGO set’s probably a prototype for a hoverboard!” “Or a decoy,” Molly hissed, untying a bow. “The real score’s under the cake. Watch—” She flicked a switch on her glove, and the gator’s vest buzzed accordingly. “Now, distract the clown. He’s wired to trip the alarm if he sees movement.” “Me? Why me? I once caused a fire alarm by whispering ‘butter’ too loud at a cheese factory!” “Then whisper ‘butter’ now,” she said, vanishing behind the cake. Bill facepalmed. “I can’t whisper to a clown! They’re already *supposed* to be creepy!” He mimed magic tricks with a party favor noisemaker. “Pick a card, Steve!” The clown—Steve—snorted. “That’s my line!” “Is it?!” Bill yelped, accidentally launching a streamer rocket. The room erupted in confetti. Molly emerged, clutching a sack. “Bill, the *cake*!” “It’s a vault! With a keypad!” he wailed, dodging a toddler in a dinosaur onesie. “What’s the code?!” “Guess,” she said, tossing him a cupcake. “D’you remember the kid’s name?” “Max? Jake? I don’t know, I was busy worrying about the gator eating my face—” “Try ‘1234’!” The cake hissed open, revealing a_cache of… socks. “What?” Bill squawked. “Who hides cash in *socks*?!” “The kind of person who puts *velcro* on their stroller,” Molly muttered, shoving a unicorn plush into the sack. “Let’s go. The balloon payment’s due in ten minutes.” They fled as the gator lunged, sliding out the door just as the party’s song blared: *“This is the day we steal the socks…”* Bill wheezed. “We stole socks.” Molly paused, grinning. “At least they’re cotton. Soft on the feet, hard in the wallet.” “Still stealing socks?” A voice croaked. They turned to see Steve the clown holding a sock puppet. “Educational field trip!” Molly called, sprinting. “Returning… suspicious socks!” Behind them, a toddler asked, “Wasn’t that fun?” The adults cheered. Bill groaned. “We’re never getting into a *teen* heist, are we?” “No,” Molly said, tossing him a glittery sock. “But we’ll be set for parties. Years of parties.”