Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ06JN776WPEA2YR3J1KC9QS

Molly traced the floor plan drawn on a crumpled napkin. "Okay. Infiltration point: the bouncy castle. Looks flimsy. Bill, you’re on distraction." Bill adjusted his oversized sunglasses. "Got it. I’ll do my ‘mime trapped in a box’ routine. Classic. Guaranteed tears." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "The goal is presents, Bill. Not traumatizing toddlers. Focus. We enter after the magician, during the ‘ooh’ phase. Presents are stacked under the snack table." "Under the table? That’s genius! Like a reverse Santa’s workshop. I love the element of surprise." Bill puffed out his chest. "It’s called stealth," Molly corrected. "You’ll be creating chaos near the clown. Remember: shiny objects distract small children. Bring the glittery disco ball." Bill beamed. "Already in my kit! Along with the universal gift opener, the ‘silence but deadly’ fart pellets, and my patented ‘accidentally trip over the magician’s hat’ maneuver. It’s gonna be a symphony of incompetence!" "Symphony is right," Molly muttered. "Any questions?" "Yeah. What if a kid sees us? Do I do a funny face? Or sing a lullaby?" Molly sighed. "You do neither. You point vaguely towards the bathroom and whisper ‘emergency poops’. Works every time. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "If you step on a Lego, you *do not* yelp. You bite your lip. Hard. Understand?" Bill nodded solemnly. "Bite the lip. No yelps. Got it. Emergency poops. Got it. What about presents with ribbons? They’re tricky." "Ribbon cutters. In your kit." Molly checked her watch. "Magician’s in ten minutes. Be ready." Bill saluted, knocking over a toy truck. "Ready when you are, cap’n! This heist is gonna be a piece of cake. Literally, I hope. I saw the cake. It’s huge. Maybe just a tiny crumb? For sustenance?" "No cake, Bill." Molly stood, brushing imaginary dust off her black turtleneck. "We’re professionals. Professionals who don’t eat the evidence. Or the cake." Bill pouted. "But it’s so... cakey. Fine. But if I get caught because I’m hungry, it’s on your conscience." Molly headed for the door. "Just don’t get caught. And for God’s sake, Bill, lose the propeller beanie. You look ridiculous." Bill touched the tiny hat on his head. "It’s part of the disguise! Silly hat equals silly clown distraction! It’s psychological warfare!" "It’s also why you look like a deranged garden gnome. Lose it." Molly slipped out. Bill hesitated, then carefully removed the beanie, stuffing it in his pocket. He straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and bounced twice on the balls of his feet. "Okay, Molly! Clown distraction… glitter bomb… emergency poops… silent but deadly… presents under the table… no cake… no beanie… bite the lip…" He whispered to himself, "Piece of cake. Literally... maybe just a crumb..." Before Molly could reappear, he tripped over his own feet and landed face-first in a pile of discarded party poppers. "Ow! And ow! And definitely no cake now!"