Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GJSGHYRFA72XN5VCACBK3

Molly peered through the chain-link fence at the bounce castle quaking with tiny, screeching bodies. “There’s enough pink wrapping paper in that pinata-strewn nightmare to fund our retirement,” she whispered. Bill, squashed beside her in the hedge, licked cupcake frosting off a stolen napkin. “Retirement is a beach in a non-extradition country. What’s the angle? Naptime ambush?” “Better: clown car extraction. I sourced a tiny fire truck.” She spat out a leaf. “You pop out, honk the horn, they swarm for lollipops, I bag the loot.” “Honking is my love language, but kids are feral bloodhounds for sugar. Lose the lollipops. I’ll deploy a magic trick. The old vanishing-quarter-behind-the-ear, except the quarter is a smoke bomb, and the ear is the birthday boy’s corrupt little soul.” “Too theatrical. We go in as the emergency entertainment: Captain Confetti and Sprinkles the Safety Clown.” She flicked a beetle off his collar. “You’re Sprinkles. You announce a mandatory present inspection for glitter bombs. I’ll load the wagon.” Bill sighed. “I despise clown shoes. My arches will never forgive you. Do we at least get to keep the fire truck?”