Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H5JV9ZQ94YY2B8S6TDJF06

The crawl space under Lucky Pete's Party Palace smelled like birthday cake and regret. Molly spread the blueprints across a plastic table shaped like a dinosaur. "So the presents will be in the gift corner," Bill said, tapping the map. "Right next to the ball pit." "And you're wearing the clown nose why, exactly?" "Disguise, Molly. Nobody suspects a clown." "Everyone suspects a clown now, Bill. It's the first rule of the modern era." He tucked the nose into his pocket, sulking. "Fine. Then what's my role?" "You're my nephew. Greedy, sugar-loaded, unable to walk in a straight line. Method acting." Bill frowned. "How old am I?" "Nine. Committed to the bit." They studied the layout. Two exits, one bouncy castle, a diaper station nobody wanted near. "The kids get presents at three sharp," Molly said. "We swap the bags at two-forty-five. In, out, done before the pinata breaks." "What if a kid cries?" "Kids cry at these things regardless. It's ambient noise." Bill nodded slowly. "And the pony?" Molly froze. "There's a pony?" "Apparently. His name is Buttercup." She sighed and rolled up the blueprints. "Every job has a pony, Bill. Every single job." "Buttercup complicates things," Bill said. "Buttercup always does."