Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2F522GED3T0GHE07Y54T26

"Alright, walk me through the loot. We talking plush toys or plastic junk I can fence at a car boot sale?" "Bill, you're thinking small and sad. I've scoped the premium haul. The birthday boy's loaded parents have a 'no duplicates' policy. There's a seven-foot giraffe, Bill. It's practically a ladder." "A ladder that squeaks. Look, I don't do whimsy. What's the entry point? I'm not fitting down a bouncy castle chute." "You'll enter as 'Sprinkles the Sad Clown Who Can't Afford Shoes,' which explains your face. I'll be the magician with a leaky glitter cannon providing the diversion. When I pull a rag soaked in lavender oil out of my sleeve and claim it's a dove, the kids will riot. You grab the haul." "Lavender oil? You're going to lightly season the toddlers while I stuff a sack with singing unicorns?" "The singing ones are the decoys. We're after the silent, heavy boxes. The ones that sound like parental guilt and wine subscriptions." "So the plan is I debase myself in a rainbow wig while you commit olfactory assault on minors, all for a giraffe we'll have to bisect to get on the bus." "Don't bisect Gerald. He's the muscle. Now, can you do a convincing honk or will you default to a scream?"