Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PP8WGPDMSDG3GZ10TA1ST

Molly crouched behind the hedge, wearing a sequined burglar mask and holding a clipboard shaped like a cupcake. Across the lawn, balloons bobbed over a garden full of sugared chaos. Somewhere, frosting cannons began their terrible work. “Remember,” she whispered, “we are not monsters. We take only the presents marked ‘educational,’ because no child wants those.” Bill adjusted his fake magician’s cape. “I still think the clown entrance is risky. Clowns know things.” “The clown is my cousin.” “Exactly. He once made a priest cry with a balloon dachshund.” Molly peered through binoculars. The birthday boy was attacking a piñata with legal enthusiasm. Parents cheered, unaware of the alleged masterminds by the hydrangeas. “We glide in during cake,” Molly said. “You distract them.” “With magic?” “With juggling.” “I can juggle one orange.” “That is called holding.” Bill sighed. “Fine. What if the children ask questions?” “Say you’re from the Bureau of Present Inspection.” “There is no bureau.” “There will be, if we print badges.” A terrier spotted them and began yapping. Molly froze. Bill bowed to it. “Abort?” he asked. Molly watched a grandmother unwrap a toy drum set and smiled. “No,” she said. “We save the parents first. Now.”