Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NHPJ0JV6Y9ERH9TMPEKGA

Molly crouched behind the hedge in a pink wig, a clipboard tucked under one arm and a balloon animal drooping sadly from her fist. Bill knelt beside her in a glittery cape, breathing hard through a plastic unicorn mask. “Tell me again why I’m the unicorn,” Bill whispered. “Because you said you wanted a leadership role.” “I meant getaway driver.” “The van is parked thirty feet away, Bill. You’ll cope.” Across the lawn, children shrieked around a bouncy castle shaped like a pirate ship. A banner read HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, MAISIE! Beneath it, a mountain of presents glittered on a table guarded by a woman in a cardigan and the exhausted stare of a battlefield commander. Bill lifted the unicorn head. “That woman’s seen things.” “That woman is the mother. We do not engage the mother.” “I once engaged a mother at a school raffle. Still have the scar.” “That was marmalade.” “It was homemade. Same thing.” Molly clicked her pen. “Right. Operation Party Favour. Objective: infiltrate, distract, remove parcels, exit before cake.” “Why before cake?” “Because after cake, children become fast.” Bill shuddered. “True. Little knees. No warning.” “We enter as entertainers,” Molly said. “I’m Professor Giggles, balloonologist. You are Sir Sparklehoof, emotional support unicorn.” “I object to ‘emotional support.’ I barely support myself.” “Exactly. It’s believable.” A small boy appeared suddenly on the other side of the hedge, face smeared with chocolate. “Are you the magic people?” Bill froze. Molly smiled so hard her cheeks creaked. “Yes,” she said. “We are the magic people.” “Can you make my dad disappear?” Bill leaned toward Molly. “Promising client.” “No,” Molly said. “Only rabbits, coins, and mild social anxiety.” The boy considered this. “Mum says you’re late.” “We’re artistically delayed,” Molly said. He pointed at Bill. “Your horse looks sad.” “I’m not a horse,” Bill muttered. “I’m a unicorn of complex inner life.” The boy ran off shouting, “The sad horse is here!” Bill lowered his head. “I’m compromised.” “You were compromised at birth. Move.” They marched through the gate. Instantly, six children swarmed Bill, tugging his cape, tail, and dignity. “Do a trick!” shouted one. “Can I ride you?” asked another. “Where’s your horn attached?” demanded a third. Bill clutched his mask. “Molly.” “Smile,” Molly hissed. “You’re magical.” “I’m being dismantled.” The mother approached, holding a tray of sausage rolls like a weapon. “You must be the entertainers.” Molly extended her hand. “Professor Giggles. Fully licensed in whimsy.” The mother looked at Bill. “And this is?” “Sir Sparklehoof,” Molly said. “He’s shy.” “I’m union,” Bill said faintly. “Lovely,” the mother replied. “You can set up near the presents.” Molly’s eyes sparkled. “Near the presents?” “Yes, to keep them away from the dog.” A terrier in a bow tie stared from under the table, growling at a parcel wrapped in dinosaurs. Bill whispered, “New variable.” “Tiny guardian,” Molly whispered back. “Manageable.” The mother clapped. “Children! Magic show!” The children thundered over. Bill stumbled onto a patch of grass beside the present table, while Molly produced a rubber chicken from her bag. “For my first trick,” Molly announced, “I shall transform this ordinary chicken into—” “Is it dead?” asked Maisie, the birthday girl. “It is resting dramatically.” “My gran rests like that,” said a boy. Bill reached slowly toward the nearest present. The terrier growled. Bill smiled through the unicorn mouth. “Good doggy.” The terrier lunged. Bill yelped and grabbed the parcel as he leapt backward, tripped over a scooter, and landed in the bouncy castle entrance. The children cheered. “Again!” they screamed. Molly stared. “Bill.” “I meant to do that,” he groaned. The mother applauded. “Wonderful slapstick!” Maisie jumped up and down. “Make him fall again!” Bill sat up, horn bent sideways. “I hate show business.” Molly saw the present in his hand. It had torn open. Inside was a large box reading JUNIOR DETECTIVE KIT. Maisie gasped. “That’s mine!” Bill held it out quickly. “Yes! And for my next trick, I return stolen property before anyone notices.” The children laughed. The mother laughed. Molly did not. She leaned close to Bill. “We are leaving.” “Without the presents?” “With our kneecaps.” As they backed toward the gate, the terrier trotted after them, triumphant, Bill’s glittery tail clenched in its teeth. Bill whispered, “Molly?” “Yes?” “I think we’ve been robbed.” Molly glanced at the dog, then at the children, then at the mother offering them party bags. “Take the sweets,” she said. “It’s the only profit we’re getting today.”