Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ09A62C1NHAV70XQY639DZ0

The balloon arch was a nightmare of pastel aggression. Molly crouched behind a particularly grinning clown statue, adjusting her periscope. "This is what we call a soft target, Bill. Maximum chaos, minimal supervision." Bill peered over her shoulder, his clown wig slightly askew. "You said there'd be a castle bounce-house blocking the view of the gift table." "There is a castle bounce-house. You're looking at the moat of discarded shoes." Molly tapped the blueprint. "We enter during the cake ceremony. All eyes will be on the frosting." "Right, right." Bill fumbled with his utility belt, sending a set of lock picks cascading onto the driveway. "Oops." "Those are for the prize cabinet at the arcade, Bill. The presents are secured with nothing more than optimism and sticky fingers." She sighed. "Just follow my lead. I'll create a diversion with the magician." "What's the diversion?" "I'm going to ask him to make my debt disappear." The party was in full, shrieking swing. Molly navigated the chaos with the grace of a cat in a minefield, while Bill got briefly tangled in a streamer. They converged on the gift table, a mountain of brightly wrapped boxes and tubes. "Go, go," Molly whispered. "I've got the oversized teddy bear as our primary haul. It's surprisingly dense." Bill grabbed a small, cylindrical package. "What about this one? It's light." "It's a roll of wrapping paper, you walnut." Suddenly, the birthday boy—a tiny tyrant named Bradley—appeared before them, a smear of blue icing on his cheek. He pointed a frosting-encrusted finger at Bill. "You," Bradley declared. "You're the bad guy from the pirate show." Bill froze, the roll of wrapping paper clutched to his chest. "I'm not... I'm a clown." "The pirate had a clown wig. He stole the treasure." Bradley's lower lip began to tremble. Molly stepped smoothly in front. "He's not a pirate, sweetie. He's a... interior decorator. We're here to rearrange the presents. For... feng shui." Bradley squinted. "What's feng shui?" "It means everything has its proper place," Molly said, plucking the wrapping paper from Bill's hands and placing it back on the table. "And this belongs here. With its friends." Bill, catching on, nodded vigorously. "Yes. Friends. Now if you'll excuse us, we must... consult with the bounce-house." He grabbed the teddy bear and began to walk stiffly toward the exit. Bradley watched them go, then turned to his mother. "Mommy, the feng shui man is stealing the bear." In the ensuing commotion, a rogue Super Soaker emerged, and a direct hit to Bill's clown wig sent it flying, revealing his bald, panicked head. They sprinted for the van, a platoon of face-painted children in hot pursuit. As they peeled away, Molly looked at the lone, sopping teddy bear in the back. "Well," she said, "we got the primary asset." Bill wrung out his wig. "Next time, can we rob a bank? Less sticky."