Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0PYBXC4E5HTZ7N1PTQ7217

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, studying the church hall through binoculars disguised as two toilet rolls. Balloons bobbed in every window, and a cardboard pirate guarded the door with more dignity than either thief had managed since breakfast. “Bill, you distract the clown; I’ll bag the gifts.” “Why me?” “Because your face already looks surprised and tragically sad.” Bill adjusted his too-small party hat, its elastic carving a pink canyon beneath his chin. In his arms he carried their equipment: one squeaky wagon, three empty cake boxes, and a clipboard labeled Official Present Inspector in crayon. Molly had insisted crayon looked governmental if underlined twice. Inside, children shrieked the anthem of sugar. Parents orbited the buffet, exhausted and trusting. The present table glittered under wrapping paper, ribbons, and the terrible moral weight of plush rabbits. Molly checked her watch. At precisely two, the magician would produce a dove; at precisely two-oh-one, Bill would sneeze from feathers; at precisely two-oh-two, chaos would bloom. Then the birthday girl toddled to the window and waved. Bill waved back automatically. Molly sighed. The heist was already doomed by manners, cake, and one tiny princess sticker on Bill’s nose. Apparently, even criminals had their limits.