Run: 2026-09-23-01M36SCEC8VCQTSF6WT52516AJ

Molly flattened the crayon map on the picnic table and treated a juice-box doodle like classified intelligence. Bill hunched over the stick-figure bouncy castle and lowered his voice. "Do we use the front door?" Molly did not look up. "No. The slide, less dignity." Bill nodded as if this were wisdom. "We leave the cake." "We are not total animals." That settled the ethics, if not the plan. They would arrive as emergency entertainers, spare clowns booked after the real one got food poisoning and the parents panicked. Molly had spent the morning twisting balloons into shapes like disappointed potatoes. Bill had practiced an apologetic face in the car mirror. Under a paper banner that simply said HAPPY, the presents sat in dinosaur wrap and loose glitter, a small mountain. Molly called the job redistribution. Bill called it Tuesday and checked his pockets for the apology note, which mostly apologized to the dinosaurs. Past the hedge a child shrieked with joy. A parent laughed the tired laugh of someone who had stepped on a party favor. Molly folded the map into her sleeve. Bill tested his red nose. It squeaked. The party had started. Their terrible idea had started too.