Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NB79B6F10QG7WP40K4HFZ

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, peering through pink balloons at the garden beyond. A banner reading HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, LUCY flapped above a mountain of wrapped presents. Bill adjusted his fake mustache. It immediately fell into the punch bowl beside him. “Bill,” Molly whispered, “why is your mustache swimming?” “It’s hydrating.” “It’s evidence.” “It’s a disguise with needs.” Molly sighed and unfolded a crayon-drawn map. “Right. Operation Party Parcel. We enter through the bouncy castle, cross the lawn during Musical Statues, blend in near the magician, then load the gifts into the clown van.” “Your clown van.” “Our clown van.” “It says Giggles McSprinkles on the side.” “That’s called authenticity.” “It also honks when you brake.” “That’s called morale.” Bill squinted over the hedge. “Are we absolutely sure about this target? Children are unpredictable. Last week one called me ‘sir’ and handed me a worm.” “We are professionals.” “We stole a cheese wheel from a wake.” “And nobody cried.” “The priest chased us.” “He wanted a slice.” A burst of laughter rose from the garden as a magician pulled a ribbon from his sleeve and accidentally knocked over a tray of cupcakes. Bill pointed. “That man is competition. Look at him. Distracting the crowd with wonder while standing within arm’s reach of the gift table. Textbook.” “Then we move before he does.” “What if he’s not a magician? What if he’s security?” “Bill, security guards don’t wear capes covered in rabbits.” “Exactly what security wants you to think.” Molly tucked the map into her belt. “Listen carefully. The birthday girl’s mother is in the kitchen. The father is arguing with the barbecue. The grandparents are asleep in lawn chairs. We have a six-minute window.” “Seven, if the barbecue wins.” A small boy in a pirate hat suddenly appeared on the other side of the hedge. He stared at them. Molly froze. Bill waved. “Ahoy.” The boy narrowed his eyes. “Are you grown-ups?” “No,” Molly said. “Then why are you so tall?” “Vegetables.” “I don’t like vegetables.” “That’s why you’re short,” Bill said. The boy considered this, then pointed at Molly’s black clothes. “Are you ninjas?” Molly smiled. “Birthday ninjas.” “Can you do a flip?” “No.” “Bad ninjas.” Bill leaned toward Molly. “We’ve been compromised by Captain Judgment.” Molly pulled a wrapped parcel from her bag and handed it over. “Here. A present.” The boy shook it. Something rattled. “What is it?” “Treasure.” “It says ‘bath salts’ on it.” “Treasure for tired people.” He ran off, shouting, “Mum! There are bad ninjas in the bushes!” Molly and Bill stared at each other. “Six-minute window,” Bill said, “has become a six-second window.” “Abort?” “Never. Adapt. Improvise. Panic elegantly.” They slipped through the side gate and collided with a woman carrying a tray of sausage rolls. “Oh!” she said. “You must be the entertainers.” Molly blinked. “Yes.” Bill bowed. “We are the bad ninjas.” “Wonderful. The children are just by the gift table. You’re on in two minutes.” Molly grabbed Bill’s sleeve as they were swept onto the lawn. Twenty children turned to stare. The magician looked relieved. A girl in a glittery crown stepped forward. “Are you here to do flips?” Bill straightened. “We are here to teach you the ancient ninja art of… present protection.” Molly hissed, “What are you doing?” “Living.” He pointed dramatically at the gift pile. “Rule one: never leave presents unattended.” The children gasped. “Rule two,” Molly said slowly, catching on, “always form a protective circle.” The children linked arms around the presents. Bill nodded. “Excellent. Rule three: if suspicious adults approach, shout very loudly.” “Suspicious adults!” Lucy shouted, pointing at them. The circle erupted. “SUSPICIOUS ADULTS!” Parents turned. The father dropped his barbecue tongs. The magician applauded nervously. Molly raised both hands. “And that concludes the lesson.” Bill whispered, “We have accidentally invented community service.” Lucy beamed. “Best party ever.” Her mother pressed cash into Molly’s hand. “You were brilliant. Same time next year?” Molly looked at Bill, then at the guarded fortress of presents. Bill shrugged. “We could go legitimate.” Molly pocketed the money. “One party at a time.”