Run: 2026-09-10-01M25DTC35RFH8NJVCYVRD3C73

Molly parted the hedge with a gloved hand and studied the backyard. A clown honked a horn. Eight toddlers shrieked near a folding table stacked with wrapped loot. Bill adjusted his dinosaur mask, which was for camouflage and, he insisted, dignity. The piñata hung like a papier-mâché moon. Bouncy castle wheezed. A mother wielded a juice box like a sidearm. Behind the grill, a golden retriever guarded a stack of hot dog buns with religious devotion, while the sprinklers hissed a warning. "Balloon arch perimeter," Molly whispered. "Kids are alarms," Bill said. "Presents by the castle." "No cake." "Sidestep the sugar and the twins, Molly, please," Bill said. Bill nodded. Their plan was simple: crawl through the petting zoo, distract the magician with a rubber chicken, snip the ribbon, and drag the gift pile into the recycling bin. Molly checked her clipboard. Bill checked his pockets for zip ties, glitter, and emergency earplugs. A toddler pointed at them and screamed, not in alarm, but because his cupcake had fallen. They froze. The clown turned. A kazoo began the theme from Mission: Impossible. This was either the perfect moment or the worst birthday ever. Molly smiled. Bill whimpered. They finally moved.