Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2DWHAMQW2YDN3XP3VKZT9

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the van and tapped a juice stain in the corner. "That's the bounce house. Everything hinges on the bounce house." Bill squinted at it. "Molly, that's a napkin." "It's a napkin with vision, Bill. The party starts at two. Cake at three. By three-oh-five, every parent will be filming a seven-year-old blowing out candles, and nobody will notice two professionals walking out with forty-seven presents." "Forty-seven? How do you know the number?" "I'm in the group chat. I'm Deborah from Pilates now." Bill blinked. "You infiltrated a parents' group chat?" "Deborah's very well-liked. Yesterday I got eleven hearts for a casserole recipe." Molly pulled two shirts from a duffel bag. "Here's your costume." Bill held it up. It was bright yellow and read WORLD'S OKAYEST CLOWN. "I'm a clown?" "You're Sprinkles. The real Sprinkles canceled this morning with food poisoning. I may have helped with that." "Molly!" "It was a mild poisoning. Mostly a suspicious muffin." Bill sighed. "And what are you?" "The bounce house safety inspector. Clipboard, lanyard, deep sense of authority. Nobody argues with a clipboard." "What if the kids figure out we're fake?" "Bill, they're six. Yesterday one of them told his mother a squirrel was the mayor." "Fair." Bill rubbed his chin. "What about the birthday boy? Theodore, right?" "Theodore is not the target. The presents are the target. Theodore is an obstacle. If he cries, you make a balloon animal." "I can't make a balloon animal." "Then make a balloon shape." "What shape?" "Any shape, Bill! Commit to it! Say it's a dog. Confidence turns a lumpy tube into a dog." Bill practiced honking his red nose. It came out as a wheeze. "And the getaway?" "The van's parked behind the piñata truck. When I say 'Code Frosting,' you grab the sacks while I distract everyone with a safety announcement." "What's the announcement?" "That the bounce house has a maximum capacity of twelve, and I'm legally required to count every child. Aloud. Slowly. Twice." Bill grinned despite himself. "That's evil." "That's logistics." She checked her watch. "Ten minutes. Any last questions?" Bill raised a hand. "Do we get to eat cake?" Molly paused. Her eyes went distant, almost tender. "A good thief never mixes business with pleasure." "So no." "So we take the cake after the presents. Obviously." "Obviously," Bill agreed, and he honked his nose one last time, a sad little sound like a goose falling down the stairs.