Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ7VFQ36WVDTY2DYPZ3M2H6

Molly crouched behind a plastic castle at the edge of the inflatable moon bounce, adjusting her glittery unicorn costume. Bill, dressed as a talking balloon animal in a sequined lion suit, wriggled next to her, his tail popping unexpectedly in the quiet. *"Ten percent rule,"* she muttered, scanning the chaos of the birthday bash. Parents sipped lukewarm punch, kids chased a rogue puppy, and a piñata—stuffed with the glittering treasure they needed—hung like a siren’s call near the snacks. Bill whispered, “What if someone mistakes me for décor?” He bobbled dramatically, the sequins clacking. Molly elbowed him. “Then they’ll thank you for adding *flair.* Remember: distraction, retrieval, vanish before the cake.” The plan was elegant, absurdly fragile. Bill would juggle rubber chickens to create havoc mid-SpongeBob dance-off. Molly would leap for the piñata, her handkerchief coiled around a picklock tool. But then the party clown—a purple one with a whistle sharp enough to split atoms—herded toddlers toward karaoke, and Bill’s chicken slipped, bonking a boy with a balloon helmet. “I’m sorry, Your Highness!” he gasped, as the kid wailed. Molly lunged at the piñata, but her unicorn horn snagged a banner, unraveling a tinsel waterfall. She yanked free, sending a disco ball crashing. Presents tumbled. “*Now* we’re distractions,” Bill said, fumbling for a balloon sword. “Run!” Molly hissed, dodging a glitter bomb thrown by the birthday girl. They bolted, herding balloons as a shield, until the backyard door slammed behind them. Bill stared at the loot bag. “No cake?” “It’s a children’s party,” Molly groaned. “They’re not paying for it.” “I was hoping for cupcake-sized emergency funds.” The puppy burst past them, trailing confetti. They sprinted, the unicorn’s tail dragging like a banner from a parade gone rogue.