Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0NWYYBW8C0K3SRXCKRPQEG

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through a gap at the backyard beyond. Balloons bobbed against the fence. A magician in a purple cape was trying to pull a rabbit from a hat while twelve children shouted conflicting legal advice. Bill lay beside her, holding binoculars upside down. “Molly,” he whispered, “this is the most heavily frosted target I’ve ever seen.” “Cupcakes are not security, Bill.” “They are if you’re diabetic.” “Focus. The presents are on the picnic table, beside the inflatable castle.” Bill adjusted the binoculars, still upside down. “I see them. Shiny. Rectangular. Morally complicated.” “We’re not stealing from the children,” Molly said. Bill blinked. “We’re not?” “No. We’re breaking in to steal the presents before Gary the Grift gets here and replaces them with fake charity pamphlets.” Bill sighed with relief. “Oh good. I was worried we’d become villains with theme music.” “We are villains with theme music. Just not monsters.” Inside the yard, the birthday girl screamed with delight as the rabbit finally appeared, wearing the magician’s wristwatch. Bill pointed. “That rabbit’s working.” “Everyone’s working. Even us. Plan A: we enter disguised as entertainers.” He looked down at his outfit: black turtleneck, black trousers, black gloves, and a party hat that said I AM SEVEN. “I feel festive already.” “You were supposed to bring clown clothes.” “I did.” He opened his bag and produced two red noses. “That’s not clothes.” “It’s the essential clown.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Plan B: catering.” Bill reached into the bag again and removed a single sausage roll wrapped in a napkin. “I brought a portfolio.” “You brought lunch.” “I can multitask.” A shriek rose from the children as the bouncy castle deflated with a long, rude sound. Adults rushed toward it. The picnic table stood briefly unguarded. Molly’s eyes narrowed. “Window.” Bill looked at the house. “Which one?” “Opportunity, Bill.” “Ah. Less glassy.” They vaulted the hedge. Molly landed neatly. Bill landed in a kiddie pool shaped like a pirate ship and emerged with a rubber duck clinging to his sleeve. A small boy in a dinosaur costume stared at him. Bill froze. “Roar?” The boy nodded solemnly. “Acceptable.” Molly swept past the magician, who was accusing the rabbit of union violations, and reached the table. The presents glittered in a mountain of ribbons. “Bag,” she said. Bill hurried over, squelching. “Big problem.” “What?” “My bag is full of sausage roll.” “There was one sausage roll.” “It expanded emotionally.” Molly yanked open her own sack. “Load the presents. Carefully. We’re returning them after Gary’s arrested.” Bill lifted a pink box with unicorns on it. “What if Gary doesn’t come?” “He’ll come. He can smell unattended wrapping paper.” As if summoned, the side gate creaked. A thin man in a fake moustache and a T-shirt reading OFFICIAL PARTY INSPECTOR slipped inside, pushing a wheelie bin. Bill gasped. “That’s either Gary or a very specialized civil servant.” Gary tiptoed toward the table. Molly stepped into his path, holding a gift bag like a weapon. “Afternoon,” she said. Gary smiled. “I’m here for the mandatory present safety audit.” Bill leaned close to Molly. “Is that real?” “No.” “Shame. Children deserve standards.” Gary’s smile faded. “Molly. Bill. You’re stealing my steal.” “We’re intercepting your steal,” Molly said. “It’s very different on the paperwork.” “There’s paperwork?” Bill raised a finger. “There should be.” Gary lunged for the presents. Molly kicked the wheelie bin. It rolled backward into the magician, who shouted, “For my next trick, litigation!” The rabbit sprang from the hat, bounded across the table, and knocked a tower of gifts into Bill’s arms. Bill staggered. “I’ve got them!” Molly grabbed Gary’s fake moustache. It came off with a twang and stuck to a balloon. The children cheered. The dinosaur boy pointed at Gary. “Bad clown!” Instantly, twelve children advanced, armed with cake, jelly, and the terrifying certainty of youth. Gary backed away. “Now, children, let’s be reasonable.” A cupcake hit his forehead. Bill winced. “Justice has sprinkles.” Molly shoved the recovered presents into the sack and thrust it toward the nearest parent, a woman holding a paper plate and looking deeply unsurprised. “These are yours,” Molly said. “Also, that man’s a thief.” The woman looked from Gary to Molly to Bill, dripping pool water and clutching a sausage roll. “And you are?” “Entertainment,” Bill said quickly. Molly nodded. “Security clowns.” The woman considered this, then shrugged. “You’re better than the magician.” Behind them, the rabbit was driving Gary into the hedge. Bill straightened his soggy party hat. “Do security clowns get paid?” Molly watched the children pelt Gary with jelly until he confessed to three burglaries and one incident involving a stolen piñata. “We get cake,” she said. Bill smiled. “Molly, at last, a clean job.” A balloon burst. The magician screamed. The rabbit escaped with Gary’s wallet. Molly sighed. “Clean-ish.”