Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KBHQZSX9YF7AHRTJTZXM0E

Molly and Bill sat in a stolen ice cream truck parked across the street from a suburban backyard. The truck's jingle still played whenever Bill leaned on the steering wheel, which was often because he had terrible posture and a love of chaos. They watched a children's party unfold through the service window. A bouncy castle shaped like a dinosaur wobbled dangerously every time a child jumped. A face painter applied glitter to a screaming toddler while the mother filmed the tantrum for social media. Presents covered a folding table near the cake, stacked in bright precarious towers, their bows gleaming like bank vault doors. They had been casing the party since the bounce house arrived at dawn. Bill had a notebook filled with crayon diagrams of the present table. Molly had a stopwatch and a growing distrust of Bill's contacts. Molly licked a strawberry cone she had found in the freezer. She pointed at the table. "We go in as entertainers. I'll be Giggles. You'll be Sparkles." Bill adjusted his rainbow wig in the rearview mirror. The wig shed a little rainbow hair onto the dashboard. He checked his reflection and practiced a magical flourish with a wilted carrot. "Sparkles doesn't do manual labor. Sparkles distracts with magic." "That's not a real rule." "It is in the birthday industry." Molly finished her cone and tossed the napkin out the window. It landed in a neighbor's birdbath, startling a plastic flamingo. She didn't care. She was already calculating angles, exit routes, and how many presents she could carry in a canvas sack. "We need a diversion. Something that makes parents look away for ninety seconds." "I hired a pony named Kevin. He has a gambling problem." Molly stared at him. She waited for the punchline. None came. The truck's jingle started again, a tinny rendition of 'Pop Goes the Weasel.' "You can't keep saying that like it's normal." "It explains the raffle ticket incident." "Why is the pony named Kevin?" "He looks like a Kevin. Also he only answers to Kevin." Molly rubbed her temples. "Fine. What about the birthday child? Kids guard gifts like tiny dragons." Bill held up a bubble gun from a duffel bag full of wigs, lanyards, and expired candy. "Birthday Child Distractor 9000. Six hundred bubbles per minute. Tested it on my cat." "And if it fails?" "We dress as party inspectors and confiscate the gifts for safety violations." Molly shook her head. "That's the dumbest plan I've ever heard." "Gluten-free cupcakes." She grabbed the bubble gun. "I'm not wearing face paint. Glitter gives me hives." Bill tossed her a lanyard. "Too late. You're Giggles." Molly looked at the lanyard. It read "Certified Fun Specialist." She hated him. She also cocked the bubble gun and watched a pony named Kevin trot into the yard wearing a tiny party hat. The parents turned, phones raised. The presents sat unattended. Kevin lowered his head and began eating the raffle tickets. The first present slid into Molly's canvas sack.