Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08118RQPHVGSXY4ZMP782B

“Bill,” Molly whispered, “if you keep breathing like that, the moon is going to file a complaint.” “I’m trying to be stealthy,” Bill hissed back, crouched behind a hedge in a sparkly black ski mask that had, unfortunately, lost the battle against his nose. “Do you know how hard it is to look sinister while carrying a folding cake knife and a balloon pump?” “You’re not looking sinister. You’re looking like a disgruntled magician who’s lost his rabbit.” Bill adjusted the mask. “Better?” “No. Worse, somehow.” He peered through the hedge at the cheerful house beyond. Strings of colored lights blinked in the windows. A paper banner above the door read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, EMILY! in letters so large and so pink they looked aggressive. Bill swallowed. “There are a lot of balloons.” “That’s a children’s party,” Molly said. “Balloons are basically the local wildlife.” “And the music?” “Normal party music.” “It sounds like a duck is being tickled.” “That would be the karaoke machine.” Bill squinted. “Are you sure we can get in and out without anyone noticing?” Molly gave him a look. “Bill, there are twenty-seven children in that house. There is no such thing as ‘without anyone noticing.’ There is only ‘before the glitter hits.’” He nodded gravely. “Right. The glitter.” “You’ve got the floor plan?” Bill produced a crumpled napkin covered in suspiciously shaky pencil lines. “Yes. Front door leads to the hall. Hall leads to the living room. Living room has presents.” “You drew a banana.” “That’s not a banana. That’s the sofa.” “The sofa is labeled ‘banana.’” “I was under pressure.” Molly sighed. “Fine. What’s the plan?” Bill leaned in. “We go in as party entertainers.” She stared at him. “No.” “I’ve got a fake mustache.” “You have a real mustache.” “Then I have two.” “Still no.” “Think about it,” he said. “You go in first as the balloon lady. I come in as the clown’s assistant.” “There is no clown.” “There could be.” “There won’t be.” He brightened. “Or I could be a magician.” “You’d set the cards on fire.” “I’d make them disappear.” “By accident.” Bill looked offended. “I can be subtle.” “You once tried to steal a purse by complimenting it.” “And it worked.” “It screamed.” “Still. Successful scream.” Molly peeked around the hedge again. “Okay. Door’s open. Adults are distracted. The father is trying to cut cake with a salad fork, which means he is not thinking clearly. We go in, sweep the gift table, and leave before the birthday song reaches the second verse.” Bill frowned. “What if the kids stop us?” Molly smirked. “Then we unleash your weakness.” “My weakness?” “Yes. Your ability to produce a truly terrible rabbit from that hat.” He clutched his chest. “That rabbit has a name.” “The rabbit has a union complaint.” They moved toward the side gate, stepping over a garden gnome wearing a party hat. Bill paused. “Molly?” “What?” “Is this morally awful?” She considered that. “Bill, we are stealing from a room full of small people who are already frosting-covered, overstimulated, and one bad sugar crash away from organized chaos.” “So yes?” “So it’s business.” From inside the house came a sudden chorus of shrieks and delighted applause. Bill flinched. “What happened?” Molly grinned. “Probably the magician.” “I thought you said there was no clown.” “There isn’t,” she said. “That’s why it’s going to be a disaster.” Bill straightened his mask, took a deep breath, and lifted the balloon pump like a weapon. “All right. For the presents.” Molly cracked her knuckles. “For the presents.” “And,” Bill added, “if we get caught, I’m blaming the banana.” “The sofa?” “No, the banana.” Molly shook her head and pushed the gate open. “Try to keep up, mastermind.”