Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C690NS9CMR51V37X1T1PJM

The café was empty except for a sleeping waiter and a radio playing weather reports. Molly unfolded a crayon map across the sticky table while Bill moved the salt shaker onto the corner to keep it from curling. Bill studied the map upside down, which made the bouncy castle look like a wedding cake. “Saturday, two o’clock,” she said. “Lord Pemberton’s seventh birthday. Thirty kids, one magician, two exhausted parents, and a gift table guarded by a bouncy castle.” Bill frowned. “A bouncy castle has no arms.” “That’s what you said about the aquarium laser grid.” “We both got wet.” “Details. We go in as entertainment.” “Entertainment. Last time you entertained, the fire brigade came.” “That was a misunderstanding involving a unicycle. This is different. You’re a clown, I’m a fairy princess, and we’re early.” Bill wrote clown on a napkin and crossed it out. The napkin tore under the pressure. “Clowns are suspicious.” “Everybody trusts clowns.” “Exactly. What about a magician’s assistant?” “The magician brought doves. We can’t compete with doves.” “Fine. I’ll be a birthday bear.” “Too hot. You’ll pass out by cake.” “I’ll pass out after cake. Cake is the distraction.” Molly tapped the map. “No, the magician is the distraction. He does the handkerchief-and-egg thing. Parents watch. Kids watch. We collect every present and drop them into the bouncy castle.” Bill stared. “We steal the presents by putting them in a bouncy castle?” “Then we deflate it.” “You can’t deflate a bouncy castle at a party. It’s not a suitcase.” “It’s a suitcase with air. We pop one seam, it collapses, we drag it to the van.” “The kids will scream.” “Kids scream at balloons, cake, and the letter Q. They’ll think it’s part of the show.” “What about the auntie with the camera?” “That’s why we need the piñata.” “We’re not hitting a piñata.” “We don’t hit it. We tell the kids it’s full of money and let them riot. The auntie films that. Meanwhile, we—” “Steal the presents. Molly, this is insane.” “Insane is a strong word. I prefer festive.” “And the getaway?” “Party bags.” Bill blinked. The waiter snorted in his sleep and muttered about balloons. “Party bags?” “We fill two with the really good stuff, then walk out beside the parents, looking tired and holding cake.” “That’s not a getaway. That’s a stroll.” “Nobody runs from a birthday party unless there’s a clown.” Bill looked at his crossed-out napkin. “So I’m the clown.” “You’re the clown.” “I hate that this makes sense.” “Good. Practice your balloon giraffe. And don’t pop it.” “What if the snake pops?” “Then we improvise.” Bill folded the napkin into something that was definitely not a giraffe. “I can only do a snake.” “Then we’re stealing a snake’s birthday presents.”