Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YFCRMPJV83XRR1NW36E1GM

Molly unfolded the blueprint across Bill’s steering wheel. It showed a bouncy castle, three picnic tables, and a cake large enough to require planning permission. “I’m telling you,” Bill said, “we should both go as clowns.” “No. Clowns are memorable. We’ll be caterers.” Bill eyed the party invitation, which featured a smiling badger and the words NO ADULTS WITHOUT CHILDREN. “I can borrow a child.” “You can’t borrow a child, Bill.” He looked wounded, then produced two false moustaches and a clipboard. “Fine. Official present inspectors.” “Better. I distract the parents with complaints about jelly. You load the van.” “Why jelly?” “Because nobody trusts a man who questions jelly.” Bill nodded solemnly and wrote JELLY on the clipboard. Molly circled the bouncy castle. “Is that my exit?” “That’s my entrance.” “Through the bouncy castle?” “Exactly. Security expects doors.” From the garden came a shriek, followed by the wet thump of something collapsing. “Was that the cake?” “Change of plan. I’m going in now.” She grabbed the moustaches. Bill sighed, lifted the clipboard, and practised looking official. “If I bounce in carrying a clipboard, Molly, I’d better come out carrying something magnificent, preferably a bicycle this time.” It involved considerable hopping.