Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ87RF6EJY99KG43MJ46W0G

Molly leaned against a bouncy castle, chewing a stolen popsicle. “Phase one: we blend in. You’ll be the balloon artist. I’ll be the face painter.” Bill clutched a half-inflated dinosaur costume to his chest. “But there’s a *dog* here, Molly. A giant one. What if he smells the presents?” “The dog’s name is Sir Barks-a-Lot. He’s on a diet of anti-anxiety cookies, per the invite. He won’t eat us.” She popped the popsicle stick into her pocket. “Besides, the real threat’s the mom in unicorn sunglasses. She’s been watching the lollipop table like a hawk.” Bill adjusted his party hat, which read “#1 Balloon Twister.” “What if someone asks what we’re doing here?” “Bill, we *are* at a children’s party. If someone asks your life story, you tell them you’re here because your nephew’s name is Todd and he’s terrified of clowns.” “But my nephew’s name isn’t Todd!” “It is now.” She tossed him a tube of face paint. “Now, you paint kids’ faces. I’ll distraction the parents with… this.” She held up a confetti cannon. “When the cake comes out, we trigger it. Chaos. Diversion. Boom. Presents are ours.” Bill stared at the glittery mess of a nearby craft table. “And the presents? They’re under the tree, but there’s, like, forty kids camped around it. We can’t just waltz in there.” “Easy. We don’t. We wait for the piñata. When it shatters, everyone crowds the mess. That’s when we swap the gifts for the replicas.” “Toys? You brought *replicas*?” “Rubber ducks filled with glitter. Perfect.” Bill paled. “You’re replacing toys with *glitter*?” “It’s *tacky* glitter. It’ll gum up their vacuum cleaners for weeks. Classic thief’s revenge.” A toddler stumbled into Bill, smacking him with a neon wand. “Are you making rainbows?” she asked. “Yes,” Bill said, shoving the wand into his pocket. “I’m a professional rainbow maker.” Molly bit back a laugh. “Stick to the plan. If you get distracted by toddlers, we’re both going to jail.” “And if I accidentally swallow a balloon?” “Eat the wrapper. It’s biodegradable, and the guilt trip will keep you hydrated.” Bill saluted, then fumbled with a rainbow lizard. “What if someone sees us swapping the gifts?” Molly pulled a kazoo from her purse and blew a sour note. “Then we’ll blame the kazoo. It’s a party crime scene, Bill. No one sees past the glitter.” A loudspeaker squawked: “IT’S TIME FOR THE CAKE!” Bill yelped. “Sir Barks-a-Lot is drooling on my shoes!” Molly grabbed his arm. “Move. You’re the balloon twister. I’m the confetti queen. When the cake blows out, we strike.” “But I forgot how to fold a lizzard!” She shoved him toward the craft table. “Make a hat. Any hat.” Bill sighed, then yanked a pink balloon into a shape resembling a potato. Molly grinned, aiming the confetti cannon. “Ready?” she whispered. Bill swallowed. “I’ll get us arrested.” “Nah. Worse comes to worse, we’re Todd’s Uncle and his friend who really love glitter.” Bill groaned as Molly grinned. “Let’s give these kids a party to remember.” “Or forget,” Molly said, pulling the cannon’s string. Rainbow shrapnel exploded upward just as the piñata hit the floor. In the commotion, Molly and Bill slipped toward the tree—Bill still holding a balloon potato, Molly holding a stolen wrapped gift. “Swap the sixth one from the left,” Molly hissed. Bill fumbled, then substituted a glitter-filled duck for a Tonka truck. “Done,” he whispered. “Perfect. Now run like you’re escaping a clown.” They bolted, dodging a toddler with a “I’m the Princess!” cape. “Where to?” Bill panted. “Same place we’ve always gone—Todd’s Uncle’s car.” Bill groaned. “I don’t even *have* an uncle named Todd.” Molly tossed him a rubber duck. “Make one up. It’s what you do.” They vanished into the chaos, leaving glitter, confusion, and a very confused Great Dane.