Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PAAHKBPWTGB9PTBTZ81R1

Molly crouched behind the hedge opposite the community hall, peering through a gap in the leaves at the riot of balloons, streamers, and tiny sugar-fueled children inside. “Right,” she said, tapping the blueprint spread across Bill’s knees. “We go in through the kitchen door, past the jelly table, around the magician, and straight to the present pile.” Bill squinted at the hall. “That’s not a present pile. That’s a mountain. A glittering, ribboned Everest.” “Focus, Bill.” “I am focusing. I’m focusing on how every child in there has the reflexes of a caffeinated mongoose.” Molly adjusted her black wool cap. It still had the price tag dangling from it. “Children are easy. Distractible. Small. Mostly sticky.” “Sticky is not a weakness. Sticky is a weapon.” A shriek erupted from inside, followed by applause and the unmistakable squeak of balloon animals being twisted into doomed shapes. Bill flinched. “Did you hear that? That’s psychological warfare.” “That’s a clown making a giraffe.” “That’s what they want you to think.” Molly sighed and pointed at the hall again. “The presents are under the big table by the stage. We fill the sack, exit through the side door, and vanish before anyone notices.” “And if someone does notice?” “We improvise.” “I hate when you say that. Last time you improvised, I spent forty minutes pretending to be a potted fern.” “You were convincing.” “I was watered.” Molly ignored him and pulled a pink envelope from her coat. “We’ve got invitations. I lifted them from the noticeboard.” Bill read his. “Princess Poppy’s Super Sparkle Sixth Birthday. Dress code: magical.” “Perfect. We blend in.” He looked down at his striped burglar shirt. “As what? A raccoon with poor life choices?” Molly rummaged in her bag and produced two conical party hats. One was silver. The other had a unicorn on it with judgmental eyes. “No,” Bill said. “Yes.” “I have a reputation.” “You once got stuck in a dog flap.” “That was reconnaissance.” Molly jammed the unicorn hat onto his head. The elastic snapped under his chin with a brisk twang. Bill winced. “If we survive this, I want it noted that I was brave.” “If we survive this, I’m selling your hat online.” They crossed the road in a crouch that Molly considered stealthy and Bill considered bad for the knees. At the kitchen door, Molly tried the handle. It opened immediately. “Security’s a joke,” she whispered. A woman in an apron appeared, carrying a tray of cupcakes. “Oh, thank goodness! Are you the entertainers?” Molly froze for half a second, then smiled broadly. “Absolutely.” Bill’s eyes widened. “We are?” “Yes,” Molly said through her teeth. “We are.” The woman thrust the cupcakes at Bill. “You’re late. The magician’s rabbit escaped into the ball pit, the clown is crying in the pantry, and Poppy’s demanding a dragon.” Bill balanced the tray, unicorn hat wobbling. “Naturally. Happens constantly in the trade.” Molly gave him a warning look. “We’ll just set up near the presents.” “Lovely,” the woman said. “Keep them busy for fifteen minutes.” Inside, the hall smelled of icing, popcorn, and panic. Children swarmed around them instantly. “Are you the dragon?” asked a girl in a tiara. Bill blinked. “I’m more of a consultant.” “Breathe fire!” “I had soup earlier.” Molly edged toward the present table, sack hidden under her coat. “Bill, do something entertaining.” He stared at the children. The children stared back. One picked her nose with ominous patience. Bill raised the cupcake tray. “Who wants cake?” Thirty hands shot up. Molly used the stampede as cover and dropped to her knees beside the presents. She lifted the first box. It was light, beautifully wrapped, and labeled For Poppy, with love from Gran. She hesitated. Across the room, Bill was being decorated with stickers. “Molly,” he called, “one of them has put glitter in my ear.” “Good,” she muttered, reaching for another present. A boy in dinosaur face paint crouched beside her. “Are you stealing Poppy’s presents?” Molly looked at him. He looked back, solemn as a tiny judge. “No,” she said. “I’m... checking them for dragons.” He nodded slowly. “There’s one in that big purple one.” “There is?” “Maybe. My mum said it’s educational.” Molly lowered the box. From the stage came Bill’s desperate voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The ancient art of making a cupcake disappear.” The children cheered as he ate one whole. Molly glanced at the mountain of gifts, then at the room full of sticky, shrieking witnesses. Slowly, she tied her sack shut—empty. Bill stumbled over, icing on his nose. “Tell me we’re rich.” “We’re leaving.” “With the presents?” “With our dignity.” He looked down at his sticker-covered shirt and unicorn hat. “That ship has sailed.” Poppy marched up to them, hands on hips. “Are you my dragon?” Molly smiled. “No. But he is.” Bill turned pale. “Molly.” “Breathe soup,” she said, and slipped toward the door as the children roared for him to fly.