Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40QA4JR5SDFKRSMNF029XC

Molly spread the crayon map across the van’s dashboard. Outside, balloons bobbed above a suburban garden, guarded by six sugar-powered children and one exhausted magician. “The presents are in the conservatory,” Molly said. “We enter disguised as entertainers.” “I refuse to wear the rabbit suit again.” “You wore it backward.” “The tail looked judgmental.” “Fine. You’re the pirate.” “Excellent. Where’s my cutlass?” “Inflatable, beneath your seat.” Bill retrieved it, accidentally honking the horn. Every child turned toward the van. Molly ducked. “Subtle,” she hissed. “Pirates are rarely subtle.” “Remember: smile, perform, collect gifts, leave.” “What’s our act?” “Balloon animals.” “I can only make sausages.” “Call them dachshunds.” They crossed the lawn. Bill wore an eyepatch; Molly carried balloons and a sack labeled TOTALLY NOT LOOT. The birthday boy blocked them, frosting bright across his cheeks. “You’re late,” he declared. “We battled sea monsters,” Bill replied. “Do a trick.” Molly twisted a balloon. It burst. Three toddlers applauded wildly. Bill bowed, tripped over his cutlass, and crashed into the gift table. Packages tumbled neatly into Molly’s sack. “Planned?” he whispered. “Obviously.” The magician removed his beard. “Police,” he said. Molly sighed. Bill raised his hand. “Before prison, may I have cake?” The children cheered; even the policeman laughed heartily.