Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1J7RAHKNMPDA915BWTX25B

Molly and Bill crouched behind the hedge of number fourteen, staring at a back garden that looked less like a birthday party and more like a sugar-powered military exercise. Balloons bobbed over the fence in tactical clusters. A clown on stilts drifted past the trampoline like a predatory flamingo. Somewhere inside the house, a machine belched out bubbles with industrial confidence. Bill adjusted his flat cap. “I’m just saying, Molly, if we’re going to rob a children’s party, I’d prefer one with fewer decorations and more exits.” Molly peered through the leaves. “You don’t rob the easy parties, Bill. Easy parties have vigilant parents and label makers. This is chaos. Chaos is a ladder.” “That’s not your saying.” “It is tonight.” A shriek rose from the garden, followed by applause. Bill flinched. “What was that?” “Face painting reveal, probably.” “It sounded like someone had painted a tiger onto a banshee.” Molly pointed to a trestle table near the patio doors, groaning under brightly wrapped boxes. “There. The objective. Twenty, maybe twenty-five presents. We go in as entertainers, create a diversion, grab the lot, and vanish before they sing.” Bill frowned. “I hate the singing. Feels accusatory.” “You always hate the singing.” “Because everyone stares at the cake like they’re witnessing a minor god descend.” Molly pulled two lanyards from her pocket. One said MAGIC DAVE. The other said PROFESSOR POPPINS. “Pick a name.” Bill stared. “Professor Poppins? I look like a man who knows things?” “You look like a man who’d charge extra for balloon animals.” “That’s fair.” He took the badge and clipped it on. “Where did you get these?” “From a van.” “You can’t keep saying ‘from a van’ like it explains everything.” “It was a very explanatory van.” A small boy in a pirate hat appeared at the side gate, glared into the hedge, then wandered off after a cupcake. Bill exhaled. “Nearly made.” “We haven’t even moved.” “Nearly noticed, then.” Molly straightened her jacket. “Listen carefully. We enter through the side gate. You announce yourself as Professor Poppins, Master of Astonishments.” “I hate that already.” “Good. It’ll read as depth. While you distract them with a trick—” “I don’t do tricks.” “You do one trick.” “I do one misunderstanding involving a coin and my sleeve.” “That’s a trick to children. While you’re baffling them, I collect the presents into the caterer’s trolley by the shed.” Bill blinked. “There’s a trolley?” “Red, wobbly wheel, floral napkin on the handle. Keep up.” “And then?” “And then the clown has an ‘accident,’ everyone panics, and we glide out through the alley.” Bill looked over the fence as the clown folded himself into a deckchair with a noise like crumpling scaffolding. “Are we causing the accident?” “No. I’m trusting fate. Look at him.” Bill nodded slowly. “That’s reasonable.” From the garden came a woman’s voice: “Has anyone seen the magician?” Molly grinned. “Showtime.” Bill grabbed her sleeve. “One concern.” “One?” “What if the children notice we’re stealing their presents?” Molly patted his shoulder. “Bill, children at parties only notice three things: sugar, unfairness, and whether the tall one gets more chips.” “And if you’re wrong?” “Then run with confidence. Adults forgive confidence.” They slipped through the gate. Instantly, a dozen sticky faces turned toward them. Bill raised both hands with the solemn despair of a man greeting destiny. “Good afternoon,” he boomed. “I am Professor Poppins, and this is my associate, Magic Dave.” Molly hissed, “Why am I Magic Dave?” “Commit to the bit,” Bill muttered. One little girl squinted. “You’re not a professor.” Bill bowed. “And yet, academically, here I am.”