Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB1SRDRS6T7KDT89171G1B

The chipped Formica table wobbled under the weight of Bill’s blueprint – a crayon drawing, mostly. It depicted a bouncy castle, several stick figures labelled ‘KIDS’ and, circled repeatedly in red, the word ‘PRESENTS’. “Right,” Molly said, tracing a line with a chipped nail. “So, Operation Stocking Fillers relies heavily on…strategic distraction?” Bill adjusted his glasses, which were perpetually sliding down his nose. “Strategic is a strong word. More like…controlled chaos. Little Timmy’s having a fifth birthday. Five-year-olds are chaos incarnate. We’re just…augmenting it.” “Augmenting. I like that. Sounds less…sinister. So, you’re sticking with the clown disguise?” “Absolutely. It’s foolproof. People expect a clown to be annoying, not a criminal mastermind.” Molly snorted. “You calling yourself a mastermind? Last time you tried a disguise, you ended up looking like a confused badger.” “That was a *very* specific badger,” Bill protested. “And it was effective! No one suspected a thing. Until I tripped over the garden gnome.” “And alerted the entire neighbourhood. Right.” Molly drummed her fingers on the table. “Okay, clown you. I’m going with ‘enthusiastic party parent’. Lots of over-the-top compliments, questions about the cake, the works. Blend in, observe, identify the present stash." “The stash is indicated on the blueprint here,” Bill said, tapping the crayon circle. "Under the bouncy castle. Apparently, Brenda – little Timmy's mother – believes it's a ‘secure location’. Brenda clearly underestimates the allure of inflated plastic.” “Brenda is going to be very disappointed,” Molly agreed cheerfully. “So, timing. The magician starts at two-thirty. That’s our window. The kids will be mesmerized, Brenda will be busy making sure Timmy doesn't eat a rabbit out of a hat, and we swoop.” “Swoop sounds…undignified for a clown.” “Bill, you're wearing oversized shoes and a rainbow wig. Dignity went out the window the moment you bought the honking nose.” “It's a *professional* honking nose!” “Whatever you say. Okay, bags? We're going to need large, inconspicuous bags. I’m thinking reusable shopping totes. Eco-friendly crime.” “Excellent thinking. I’ve already sourced some. They have pictures of kittens on them. Nobody suspects a kitten-tote carrying thief.” “You’re committed to this bit, aren't you?” “Committed is my middle name. Well, actually it's Harold. But I feel committed.” Molly grinned. “Right then, Harold. Let’s go steal some birthday presents.” “Just one quick question,” Bill said, fiddling with his glasses. “What are we going to *do* with all the presents?” “Sell them, obviously. We’re professionals.” “Right. Of course. Professionals. I just…wonder if little Timmy will be upset.”