Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GFMWKY90VXYG1YMDYEFTW

Molly unfolded the blueprints across the sticky surface of the diner table, right over a syrup ring that glued the paper to the Formica. She tapped a chubby finger on a hand-drawn clown face she’d scrawled in the margin of the Happy Time Party Palace floor plan. A dollop of scrambled egg trembled on her lower lip. “Okay, Bill, talk me through the part where the guy in the inflatable unicorn suit is supposed to be inconspicuous,” she said. Bill leaned back and cracked his knuckles with the serene confidence of a man who has never once correctly anticipated consequences. “It’s multi-phase, Moll. The unicorn is essential. According to my surveillance, the moment the hired princess arrives, all parental cognition switches off. They see a glittery horn and they go into a sort of diabetic coma of trust. I waltz in, collect the gift table haul into a reinforced wheelie bin disguised as a giant cupcake, and waltz out.” “You can’t waltz in a unicorn suit. It has hooves. You’ll shuffle.” “I’ll shuffle out. Semantics. The point is, you’re creating the diversion that makes the shuffle possible.” He stole a triangle of her toast. Molly snatched it back and bit it precisely in half. “By being a magician. A magician with a live rabbit. Bill, I’m allergic to rabbits. My eyes will swell shut. I’ll be a blind magician pulling endless scarves from my own weeping face.” “That’s pathos. Kids love pathos. A sad clown is a memorable clown.” He waved away her objection. “The rabbit is non-negotiable. I already rented him from a guy in the classifieds. His name is Houdini Muffincrumb and he comes with his own tiny top hat. You can’t disappoint an animal in evening wear.” Molly stared at him, her expression a meticulous blank. “Did you just say the rabbit’s name is Houdini Muffincrumb?” “It was a package deal. Look, while you’re palming coins and making balloon poodles go inexplicably limp, wee Madison and Aidan will be hypnotised. I’ll harness the elemental power of the unicorn to blend in with the bouncy castle landscape. The presents will vanish. We regroup in the back alley by the dumpster that smells of old sheet cake. Clean, professional, adorable.” “There’s a flaw,” Molly said, drawing a heart around the fire exit with her fork. “A six-year-old’s birthday isn’t a casino vault. The loot is forty boxes of kinetic sand and a scooter.” Bill’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, but my reconnaissance indicates the Grossman child is attending. His parents own that artisanal toy store. Their gifts will be handcrafted wooden balance bikes. Do you know what those retail for? Enough to afford a lot of antihistamines for your rabbit-induced trauma.” Molly considered this. A waitress refilled their coffee and gave the blueprints a long, incurious glance. After she left, Molly leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Fine. I’ll do the magic. But I’m wearing the outfit with the cape, and I’m not honouring the rabbit’s professional dignity. If I start to swell, I’m stuffing Houdini Muffincrumb into a false-bottomed hat and directing the children to pummel the piñata until their tiny fists get tired.” Bill extended a hand across the ketchup-smudged crayon drawing of a pony on the kids’ menu. “Partner, that’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said. Unleash the chaos. I’ll be the mythological beast of burden.” They shook, and the unicorn suit in its black duffel bag slid off the adjacent booth and landed on the floor with a soft, hollow thud, like a dream dying in polyester.