Run: 2026-04-24-01KPZV4GQHGJMQ6YKA5727PD1J

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the sticky diner table, pinning the corners with ketchup bottles. Bill squinted at it, chewing a toothpick he'd been working since Tuesday. "The bouncy castle is our blind spot," Molly said, tapping the paper. "Clown arrives at two. Cake at two-thirty. We slip in during pin-the-tail." "I don't do clowns, Moll." "You robbed a bank with a flamethrower." "That was different. The tellers weren't wearing rubber noses." She sighed and slid him a photograph of the birthday boy, a gap-toothed menace clutching a plastic sword. "Timmy Pemberton. Turns seven Saturday. His grandmother shipped presents from four continents." "Four?" Bill's toothpick stilled. "Define presents." "Drone. Gold-plated Lego. Something called a Pony Palace that retails for six hundred bucks." "Sweet Moses." "So you're in?" "I'm in. But I'm not wearing the piñata costume." "You're wearing the piñata costume." "Molly." "Bill, nobody questions a piñata. You're furniture with fringe." He dragged a hand down his face, considering a career of regrettable choices that had led, inevitably, to papier-mâché. "Fine. But if one kid swings a stick at me, I'm taking the Pony Palace and running."