Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCRG819TX2EG6ND28WMKWYJ

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the van. It was a napkin. "That's the bouncy castle," she said, tapping a grease stain. "Two guards. Mothers. Armed with wet wipes." "And the presents?" Bill asked. "Gift table. Northeast corner, under the piñata." Bill chewed his thumbnail. "I don't love the piñata. Kids get a stick, Molly. A stick, a blindfold, and permission." "You're frightened of a seven-year-old." "I'm frightened of nine of them, sugared to the eyeballs." She handed him a paper bag. Inside lay a moth-eaten costume, vaguely rabbit-shaped, one ear folded over like a broken finger. "Absolutely not." "You're Mr. Hoppy. Booked and paid for. You do balloon animals, I clear the table, we're gone before the cake." "I can't do balloon animals." "Do a snake." "A snake is just a balloon." "Then you're a natural." Bill held the costume at arm's length, studying a stain of unclear origin. "What if they hug me?" "Then hug them back. Sell it." "I don't want to sell it. I want to steal presents and go home and never think about children again." Molly checked her watch, grinning as a minivan rolled past trailing balloons. "Party's in twenty. Ears on, Hoppy."