Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0640N8CTEMZ9E1N3RPS1M5

Molly adjusted her sequined beret, the only piece of their “disguise” Bill had approved. “The entry is a cinch. I’ll be the new balloon artist. You’re my long-suffering assistant.” Bill peered from behind the van’s steering wheel at the party house, a fortress of streamers. “Long-suffering is right. My itches have itches in this polyester jumpsuit.” “The presents are in the den. We mingle, we swap the real gift bags for our empty decoys during the cake-cutting chaos,” Molly said, checking her watch. “Simple enough,” Bill muttered. “What could go wrong?” “The clown, Bill. The clown is always a wildcard. He might have a water-squirting flower or—gasp—actual credentials. Keep your eyes on him.” Bill swallowed. “I still think robbing the bank was less risky.” “The bank has cameras. This has five-year-olds with sticky hands and inquisitive minds. Far more terrifying,” Molly said with a grin. “Ready?” “No,” Bill sighed, opening his door. “Let’s go acquire some mildly disappointing toys.” As they approached, a raspberry jam stain on Bill’s knee already heralded disaster.