Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8TCHQGTX7A7YFE3NESRX2

Molly adjusted her party hat in the rearview mirror of the minivan, its unicorn horn flopping sideways. Bill, parked cross-legged on a stash of beach balls, brandished a holographic wand like a sword. "Phase one is infiltration," he said. "I say we go full decoy. You ever seen *Mission: Impossible*, Molly? This is the kids’ version." "Which would be *Mission: Inflatable*?" Molly deadpanned, glaring at the bouncy castle across the yard, where a wrangler in a dinosaur onesie bellowed, “WAFFLES! DON’T EAT THE CUPCAKE!” “We blend in. You’re the magician. I’m the ‘assistant’ who secretly pockets wrapped toys when kids aren’t looking.” Bill gaped. “You think I’m gonna saw a kid in half to make time?!” “No, you saw *the presents.* While the clowns juggle, I’ll swap the gift boxes with decoys filled with confetti.” “And then what? Carry them out in a piñata?” “Why not? They’ll think it’s part of the entertainment.” A popsicle slid across Bill’s lip. “What if we get caught, Molly? Last time I was at a party, a girl in a glitter tiara recognized me as the guy who stole her Goldfish crackers.” “This isn’t a *casino,* Bill. The only security here is a dad who’s half-drowned in punch and a toddler signing their names in frosting.” Bill brandished the wand again. “I say we escalate. I’ve rigged the bouncy castle with a remote-control flatulator.” Molly didn’t look up from her notes. “We’re calling it a ‘decompression device,’ and if you so much as *fart* inside that thing, we’ll be eating clown butt for the rest of the night.” Bill gasped. “You think I’d let a *child* near my—” He paused. “…Wait, how do you even flatulate on command? That requires training.” “Distrust the process, and you’re already in the vault with a balloon animal eating your ear.” She tapped her notepad. “We split at 7:15. You charm the gift table with your ‘magic.’ I’ll disable the party clown by… nominating her for prom queen.” Bill squinted at the clown, now face-painting a kid into a lopsided vampire. “If I get one smudge on my suit, I’m framing the dino guy.” “Just say the word ‘abracadabra’ when grabbing the loot. Kids love a disappearing act.” “And if the cake explodes?” Molly smirked. “Then we’re the heroes who saved the filling.” Bill leaned closer, whispering, “What if someone *watches* us?” Molly patted his shoulder. “Relax. The only witness will be the piñata. And if it sees something it shouldn’t?” She unsheathed a pair of nunchucks wrapped in tinsel. “We’ll tell it we’re in a boy band.” Across the yard, a toddler waddled past, clutching a balloon that screamed like a dying animal. Bill saluted, then tripped over a disco ball, nearly beheading a piñata rooster. “Phase two,” he muttered. “Disguise. Disguise.” “Remember,” Molly said, stepping out of the van, “if you hear a kazoo solo, run.” “And if I hear a kazoo *solo,* I run *faster.*” “Now go charm some children,” she said. “And try not to set off the fake fire alarm.” Bill vanished into the chaos. Molly watched him nearly get trampled by a dance-off circle. “God help me,” she whispered, “he’s worse than a glitter bomb.”