Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PH0G430NPHY17G4F5H2EW

Molly unfolded the napkin as if it were a royal decree. It had a smear of jam across one corner and a surprisingly detailed drawing of a bouncy castle in blue biro. “This,” she said, tapping the napkin, “is our big score.” Bill leaned over it, squinting. “That’s a rabbit.” “It’s a floor plan.” “It has whiskers.” “That is the conservatory.” Bill nodded slowly, as though the architecture of suburban homes often included facial hair. Across the street, Number 42 blazed with balloons, bunting, and the shrieking joy of twenty children fuelled by lemonade and sugar. A banner over the door read HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, OLIVER! Molly adjusted her black wool hat. “Inside that house are at least thirty presents.” “Thirty-one,” Bill said. “I counted the one shaped like a dinosaur.” “We get in, we get the presents, we get out.” “Simple,” Bill said. “Apart from the children.” Molly glanced at him. “What about them?” “They’re small, fast, sticky, and suspicious. That’s four kinds of problem.” “We’ll blend in.” Bill looked down at his striped jumper, fingerless gloves, and boots. “As what? A burglar-themed uncle?” “As entertainers.” Bill brightened. “Magicians?” “No. Clowns.” His face collapsed. “Molly, we have discussed this. I cannot be a clown. I have a medical condition.” “Cowardice isn’t medical.” “It is when I see a balloon animal.” Molly pulled two red noses from her pocket and handed him one. He held it between finger and thumb like a dangerous insect. “I’m not wearing that.” “You are wearing that, or you’re waiting in the van with the getaway custard.” “It’s not getaway custard. It’s lunch.” “You brought a bucket.” “I get hungry during crime.” A roar erupted from the house as someone presumably won pass-the-parcel or lost a shoe. Bill flinched. Molly pointed to the side gate. “We enter through there.” “Is that legal?” “We’re thieves, Bill.” “Right. Just checking where we were morally.” “We say we’re Molly and Bill’s Marvelous Party Pals.” “Catchy.” “You juggle.” “I can’t juggle.” “You drop things humorously.” “That I can do.” Molly folded the napkin and tucked it inside her sleeve. “While you distract them, I locate the present table.” “And then?” “Then I place the presents into these.” She produced two enormous sparkly sacks covered in cartoon unicorns. Bill stared. “Where did you get those?” “Seasonal aisle.” “They say ‘Birthday Wishes’ on them.” “That’s called camouflage.” “That’s called evidence with handles.” The front door opened. A woman in a paper crown stepped out carrying a tray of sausage rolls. Behind her, a child dressed as a pirate announced that the dog had eaten the treasure map and possibly a crayon. Bill whispered, “There’s a dog?” Molly stiffened. “A small one?” The dog bounded into view: a golden retriever wearing fairy wings. Bill took one step back. “That is not security. That is joy with teeth.” “Hold yourself together.” “I can’t rob a party with a fairy dog. It’ll know.” “It’s a dog, Bill.” “It has wings, Molly. It outranks us.” Molly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The woman in the crown spotted them through the hedge and waved. “You there! Are you the entertainers?” Molly froze. Bill froze harder. “Yes!” Molly called, shoving the red nose onto Bill’s face. “Marvelous Party Pals!” Bill gave a weak wave. The dog barked once, delighted. They were swept inside before either could flee. The hall smelled of cake, crayons, and impending chaos. Presents towered on a table beneath a banner, glorious and glittering. Molly’s eyes shone. Bill’s stomach growled. A tiny pirate marched up to them. “Can you make a giraffe?” Bill looked at the limp balloons thrust into his hands. “I can make disappointment.” “Brilliant!” cried the pirate. Within minutes, Bill had a circle of children howling with laughter as every attempted balloon animal became a worm. Molly edged toward the presents, sack ready. Then Oliver, the birthday boy, appeared beside her. He had chocolate on his chin and absolute trust in his eyes. “Are those for carrying presents?” he asked. Molly swallowed. “Possibly.” “Good. Mum says we’re donating half to the hospital because I got too many.” Bill, across the room, accidentally made a balloon hat shaped like a tragic octopus and received thunderous applause. Molly looked at the presents. Then at Oliver. Then at Bill, who was now being crowned King Worm by the pirate. She lowered the sack. “Change of plan,” she called. Bill beamed with relief. “Are we escaping?” “No,” Molly said, picking up a sausage roll. “We’re helping deliver presents.” Bill considered this. “Is there custard?” Oliver nodded solemnly. “A bucket.” Bill removed his red nose and wiped away a tear. “Best heist ever.”