Run: 2026-09-25-01M3CKC5FXYNCDE5NF60T7GN72

Molly adjusted her Santa hat, the jingle bell on the tip tinkling ominously. "You sure this is the right house? The sign says 'No Adults Allowed Without a Kid.'" Bill squinted at the balloon archway. "Relax. We’ll just say we’re the clown’s understudies. Kids love understudies." "Clowns don’t have understudies, Bill. That’s not how clowning works." "Fine. We’re the magicians. Or the face painters. Or—" "—the parents who forgot their own child’s name?" Molly sighed. "This is a disaster waiting to happen." Bill patted his pocket, where a handful of stolen party invitations rustled. "Look, the plan’s solid. We waltz in, grab the presents, and waltz out before the cake’s even cut." "Waltz? Since when do you waltz?" "Since never. But it sounds classy." He adjusted his fake mustache. "You got the distraction?" Molly held up a whoopee cushion. "State of the art." Bill groaned. "That’s it? One whoopee cushion?" "It’s a *premium* whoopee cushion. And I’ve got backup." She pulled out a kazoo. "Chaos guaranteed." "Great. So while you’re serenading the kids with kazoo renditions of *Baby Shark*, I’ll be hauling a mountain of LEGO sets out the back door." Molly grinned. "Exactly. Teamwork." A shriek of laughter erupted from the backyard. Bill peeked over the fence. "They’re doing musical chairs. Perfect. No one notices a couple of extra adults in the chaos." Molly bit her lip. "What if they ask us to play?" Bill scoffed. "Please. We’re clearly too cool for musical chairs." "You’re wearing a bow tie with tiny reindeer on it." "Festive. Not suspicious." He took a deep breath. "Alright, on three. One—" "Wait. What’s our exit strategy?" Bill blinked. "We… walk out?" Molly groaned. "Brilliant. And if someone stops us?" "We say we’re the caterers. Or the balloon artists. Or—" "—the parents who *still* forgot their kid’s name?" Bill threw his hands up. "Fine. New plan. You cause a distraction, I grab the presents, and if anyone asks, we’re the *mysterious gift inspectors*." Molly raised an eyebrow. "That’s your best?" "It’s got a ring to it." He adjusted his hat. "Now, are we doing this or not?" Molly sighed, then cracked her knuckles. "Alright. But if we get caught, I’m blaming the bow tie." Bill grinned. "Deal. Now go make some noise." Molly took a deep breath, then let out a loud, dramatic sigh. "Here goes nothing." She stepped through the gate, whoopee cushion in hand, and squeezed it with a flourish. The resulting *pffft* was underwhelming. Bill facepalmed. "That’s it? That’s your distraction?" Molly shrugged. "I told you I had backup." She raised the kazoo to her lips and launched into a spirited, if slightly off-key, rendition of *Jingle Bells*. Inside the party, the music stopped. A child’s voice piped up, "Who’s that?" Bill groaned. "We’re doomed."