Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0P39PC2YMMBM204WCB0CPG

Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the bonnet of the van and weighed down the corners with two stale doughnuts and Bill’s left shoe. The map showed a bouncy castle, a cake table, and a suspiciously large pile of presents beneath a banner reading HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, TIMMY! Bill squinted. “Why is the dog labelled ‘security’?” “Because it’s wearing a bow tie,” Molly said. “That’s confidence. Confidence is dangerous.” “It’s a spaniel.” “So was the Duke of Wellington, probably.” Bill scratched his chin with the solemnity of a man considering both crime and jam. “I still say this is low, even for us.” Molly looked over the hedge at the garden. Children shrieked around a magician who appeared to be losing an argument with his own rabbit. “Low? Bill, those presents are unattended.” “They’re attended by thirty children, twelve parents, one magician, and a spaniel.” “Details.” “Also,” Bill said, “we are stealing from a children’s party.” Molly tapped the map. “We are liberating poorly wrapped consumer goods from the tyranny of sticky fingerprints.” “That’s not better.” “It sounds better.” A balloon drifted over the hedge and landed at Bill’s feet. It read PRINCESS SPARKLE PONY. He picked it up with reverence. “Molly,” he whispered, “what if there are ponies?” “There won’t be ponies.” “You don’t know that.” “The driveway has no trailer marks.” “You checked?” “I’m a professional.” Bill nodded, impressed despite himself. “What’s the plan, then?” Molly straightened. “We enter during the singing of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Everyone is distracted. You approach the gift pile dressed as entertainment.” “As what entertainment?” “A pirate.” Bill looked down at his striped shirt. “I thought I was dressed as a burglar.” “Exactly. Children won’t know the difference.” “They will. Children are brutal art critics.” Molly ignored him. “You fill the sack. I create a diversion by asking the magician if his rabbit has a permit.” “That’s not a diversion. That’s bureaucracy.” “Bureaucracy is the loudest magic.” From the garden came a cheer, followed by an adult shouting, “Not in the paddling pool, Oliver!” Bill peered through the leaves. “There’s a paddling pool. That changes everything.” “How?” “I’m weak around nautical themes.” Molly took back his shoe from the map and handed it to him. “Focus. In and out. No heroics. No cake.” Bill’s face fell. “No cake?” “No cake.” “What if cake falls into the sack?” “We remove it.” “What if it falls into my mouth?” “Then you’re on your own.” A small girl in fairy wings appeared at the gate and stared at them. Molly froze. Bill waved with the balloon. The girl pointed at the van. “Are you the pony people?” Bill’s eyes shone. Molly smiled too widely. “No, darling. We’re the, er, present inspectors.” “My mum says presents are not to be touched until after cake.” Bill gasped. “After cake? Barbaric.” The girl narrowed her eyes. “You’re not invited.” Molly folded the map very slowly. “That is a hurtful but accurate observation.” The spaniel trotted up behind the girl, bow tie wagging with menace. It sat, judged them, and sneezed. Bill leaned close to Molly. “Security has made contact.” “Retreat,” Molly hissed. They shuffled backward. Bill tripped over the doughnuts, the balloon popped, and every face in the garden turned toward the hedge. The magician shouted, “For my next trick, I’ll make two suspicious adults disappear!” Molly grabbed Bill’s sleeve. “Run.” As they fled, Bill panted, “New plan?” Molly glanced at the party, where the girl was now feeding cake to the spaniel. “Yes.” “Less evil?” “Much.” Bill brightened. “Steal from a bank?” “No,” Molly said. “We become children’s entertainers.” Bill considered this. “Can I be the pony?” “Only if you learn to juggle.”