Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6BXC8Z0DTB4A1ZCX2CGPZ

Molly unfolded the invitation on the dashboard, smoothing the cartoon dragon with her thumb while Bill cleaned a listening device with a wet wipe. The van smelled of balloon rubber and cheap air freshener, and through the windshield a bouncy castle breathed in and out like a pastel beast. At the side gate, a father carried a cooler of juice boxes with the grim purpose of a man defusing a bomb. Bill taped the invitation to the steering wheel and drew three arrows in red marker: gate, tent, presents. Bill insisted on calling it a tactical operation; Molly called it Tuesday. On the passenger seat lay a list titled Party Logistics, which included three kinds of tape, a fake moustache, and a note reading do not eat the evidence. The bouncy castle gave another slow, rubbery sigh, as if it had heard this plan before and had opinions. “Thirty kids,” Molly said. “Two parents. One magician.” “One magician is one too many,” Bill said. “Magicians notice things.” “He notices his rabbit. That’s all.” Bill checked a clipboard. “Side gate has a latch. Trampoline is a minefield. The tent has three flaps and a table of presents under a sheet.” “We go in as the entertainment. You carry the equipment cases. I make balloon animals. When the show starts, we switch the presents into the cases.” “And the birthday girl?” “She gets a poodle. A good one.” Bill frowned at the bouncy castle. “Kids are tiny security cameras with sticky fingers.” “That’s why we bring candy. We give out candy, the parents get happy, the kids get sugared, and nobody counts the presents until we’re gone. The invitation says no gifts, so the parents will be too embarrassed to call the police.” “They’ll call their therapist.” “Better.” Molly pulled a magician’s schedule from the glove box and tapped the two o’clock show. The plan had the elegance of a bad magic trick: distract, substitute, vanish. Bill practiced lifting a wrapped box with two fingers. It slipped, bounced off his shoe, and made a sound like a small church bell. They both froze. A child in a princess cape looked toward the van, then returned to licking frosting off a plastic sword. The equipment cases were packed with balloons, candy, and a collapsible hand truck disguised as a pogo stick. Bill had rehearsed the lift in the mirror and dropped the cat twice. The cat was not part of the plan. Neither was the pogo stick. “We need quieter presents,” Bill said. “We need quieter thieves.” Bill wrote “NO RABBIT CONTACT” on the clipboard and underlined it twice. Molly folded the invitation into a paper hat and placed it on his head. He adjusted it with dignity. Across the street, the magician arrived carrying a top hat, a cape, and the expression of a man who had already lost something. The bouncy castle exhaled. Molly started the van. “Final check,” she said. “Balloons?” “In the case.” “Candy?” “In the other case.” “Dignity?” “Staying home.”