Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0MQRCP7AGDZSQQRRR4G3X7

“I’m just saying,” Molly whispered, peering over the hedge at the bunting-draped garden, “for a heist, this has far too many balloons.” Bill crouched beside her in a caterpillar costume, his antennae bobbing. “Balloons are useful. Cover, distraction, occasional squeaky getaway noise.” “You look like a nervous sock.” “I look like entertainment. That invitation said ‘Bug Bonanza Party.’ I am committed to the theme.” “You are a six-foot caterpillar with a duffel bag.” “It’s a prop.” “It says ‘SWAG’ on the side.” “That’s short for ‘Silly Wiggly Activity Gear.’” Molly closed her eyes. “Bill, focus. We are not here to steal from children.” Bill blinked. “We’re not?” “No. We’re here to recover the presents stolen by the magician hired for the party.” Bill glanced toward the patio, where a man in a purple cape was making a coin appear from behind a toddler’s ear. “Professor Puddington?” “Professor Pickpocket, according to three grandmothers and a CCTV still from the community centre.” “I knew his rabbit looked shifty.” “The rabbit is innocent.” “That’s what it wants you to think.” A cheer rose from the garden. The magician bowed, and the children shrieked with delight as a tower of wrapped gifts sat temptingly near the gazebo. Bill sighed. “Shame. I’d already rehearsed my line.” “What line?” “‘Nobody move, this is a cuddle robbery.’” “Never say that again.” “I wasn’t going to use the growly voice.” Molly adjusted the fake ladybird wings strapped over her black jacket. “Plan. You distract Puddington. I check the present pile for the marked parcels and swap in the decoys.” “Why am I distracting him?” “Because you’re dressed as a caterpillar and he’s a children’s magician. Nature provides.” Bill nodded gravely. “The ancient rivalry.” “Once I’ve got the parcels, we hand them to Mrs. Kershaw by the bouncy castle. She returns them to the rightful families. We leave before anyone asks why the ladybird has lockpicks.” “They might assume it’s educational.” “They will not.” A small boy wandered toward the hedge holding a paper plate with a sausage roll. He stared at Bill. Bill waved one padded caterpillar foot. “Hello, tiny human.” The boy pointed. “Mummy! The bug man’s in the bushes!” Molly hissed, “Entrance, Bill. Now.” Bill stood, branches snapping off his costume. “Ta-da!” Twenty children turned. Someone screamed happily. Someone else threw a jam sandwich. Molly followed him through the gate with a bright smile. “Hello! Party helpers!” A woman with a clipboard rushed over. “Oh thank heavens. The agency said you were running late.” Bill puffed up. “Traffic on the leaf.” Molly kicked his ankle. “I mean road,” he said. “Leaf road.” The woman frowned, then pointed. “Can you keep them occupied during the magic finale? And don’t let anyone near the presents. The magician insisted on arranging them himself.” Molly’s smile sharpened. “Did he?” Bill leaned close. “That’s suspicious.” “Yes, thank you, Detective Worm.” “Caterpillar.” “Go.” Bill waddled toward Professor Puddington. “Excuse me, fellow professional wonder-maker.” The magician’s smile faltered. “You’re early.” “Time is an illusion,” Bill said. “Like your hairline.” Molly nearly tripped. Puddington narrowed his eyes. “Who sent you?” “The chrysalis.” As Bill launched into a deeply unconvincing dance called, judging by his narration, “The Wiggle of Destiny,” Molly slipped behind the gazebo. Up close, the presents were stacked too neatly. She found the three with tiny blue star stickers, slit the tape with a thumbnail blade, and peeked inside: watches, wallets, a velvet bracelet case. “Honestly,” she muttered, “stealing at a six-year-old’s party. Tacky.” Bill shouted, “Children, behold! A caterpillar can count to potato!” “Potato!” the children roared. Molly swapped the loot into her ladybird satchel and tucked harmless decoy gifts into the wrappings: crayons, bubbles, a plush dinosaur wearing sunglasses. Professor Puddington lunged toward her. “Step away from those!” Bill blocked him with his foam abdomen. “Sir, please respect the larval arts.” “You idiots don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Molly straightened. “A man whose escape plan involved hiding stolen jewellery under wrapping paper labeled ‘For Sophie, age six’?” Puddington glanced at the watching parents. Bill gasped theatrically. “For shame. Sophie wanted glitter slime.” Mrs. Kershaw appeared by the bouncy castle, arms folded. “Molly?” Molly tossed her the satchel. “All yours.” Puddington bolted, cape flapping, straight into the bouncy castle entrance. He bounced once, twice, then landed in a paddling pool shaped like a pirate ship. The children applauded wildly. Bill bowed. “Thank you. I trained for minutes.” Molly grabbed his antenna. “Exit.” “But cake.” “No.” “Party bag?” “No.” As they slipped out through the gate, Bill looked back wistfully. “We did save the presents.” “Yes.” “And entertained the children.” “Unfortunately.” “So technically we’re heroes.” Molly sighed. “Don’t start.” Bill grinned. “Hero caterpillar deserves cake.”