Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0GGJ7TCCAP0P00DMV0J9MA

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the sticky diner table, pinning the corners with ketchup bottles. Bill squinted at the crayon drawing, tilting his head like a confused spaniel. "That's a unicorn, Bill. The blueprint's underneath." "Oh. Right. Thought the security was unusually whimsical." She tapped a red circle near the backyard. "Piñata goes up at three. That's our window. Everyone's watching little Timothy swing a bat while blindfolded." "Beautiful. Chaos, candy, and a child with a weapon." "Focus. You're the clown." Bill's face collapsed. "Absolutely not. I told you, Molly, I don't do greasepaint after what happened in Tulsa." "Nobody's bringing up Tulsa." "You just brought up Tulsa." "Put on the wig, Bill." He grumbled, stuffing a rainbow afro into his jacket like contraband. Molly slid him a rubber chicken and a duffel bag shaped like a birthday cake. "We grab the presents during 'Pin the Tail.' In, out, nine minutes." "What about the parents?" "Sheet cake. Industrial quantities. They'll be comatose." Bill honked the chicken experimentally. A waitress dropped a plate. "Stop that." "Getting into character." Molly sighed, folding the unicorn. "Just don't eat the goodie bags this time."