Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TB60ZKF549KSK5D9M6CQ7P

Molly perched on the fire escape, peering through binoculars at the balloon-festooned garden below, where sugar-hyped children screamed like tiny alarms. "Tell me again why adults are not invited," Bill whispered. He adjusted his clown wig, which kept sliding over one eye, ruining his menacing aura completely. "Because, genius, we are crashing it disguised as entertainment, remember?" Molly hissed. She pointed toward the gift table, a glittering mountain of wrapped boxes guarded by one formidable grandmother and several juice boxes. "That granny has elbows like weapons," Bill muttered nervously. "Relax. You juggle, I sing, everyone looks away, then we swap the presents for decoy boxes filled with socks." Below, the birthday boy attempted to eat his own party hat while parents applauded encouragingly. "What if they request actual balloon animals?" he asked, panicking slightly. "Then improvise. Everything vaguely sausage-shaped counts as a dog." She stuffed empty sacks beneath her sparkly magician's cape. "I feel morally weird stealing from an eight-year-old." Bill admitted. "He has forty presents, Bill. Forty. Even Santa thinks that is excessive profiteering." Molly grinned wickedly. "Fine. Operation Pinata begins in three, two..." "Wait, do clowns knock, or do we just honk ominously?" Bill replied. "Honk twice, obviously."