Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0N467N8W584R6VTYQHP38E

Molly pressed her ear to the community hall door. “Hear that, Bill? Twenty sugar-drunk children and one magician losing a custody battle with a rabbit.” Bill hugged an empty laundry sack. “I feel terrible.” “You always feel terrible before profit.” “No, I mean morally. Also the sack smells like gym socks.” “Focus. The presents are by the cake.” “The cake is guarded by grandmothers.” “Grandmothers nap.” “Not these ones. One winked at me like she’d already hidden a body.” “Then we improvise. You distract them.” “With what? My charm?” “Bill, your charm has an out-of-order sign.” “Cruel, but accurate.” Inside, children shrieked, “Piñata!” Bill flinched. “That’s our cue to leave.” “That’s our cue to blend in.” “I’m forty-two.” “Wear the dinosaur hat.” “It says Birthday Princess.” “Dinosaurs can be princesses. It’s a modern party.” The door swung open. A tiny girl stared up. “Are you the present inspectors?” Molly smiled. “Absolutely.” Bill whispered, “We are?” The girl handed him a clipboard. “Mummy said two dodgy-looking adults would come. You’re late.” Molly blinked. “Dodgy?” Bill read the clipboard. “We’re judging best-wrapped gift.” “First prize,” the girl said, “is leftover cake.” Molly sighed. “Bill?” “Yes?” “We’re going straight.” “After cake?” “Obviously.”