Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0Q0VSXJZ771NSCZAW9SRYT

Molly flattened the birthday invitation against the steering wheel and squinted at the glittery unicorn printed across the top. Outside, the community hall thumped with tiny feet, shrieks, and the sort of music that suggested a kazoo had swallowed a marching band. Through the window, Bill could see a mountain of presents on a folding table, each wrapped in paper brighter than a police siren. “That,” Molly said, tapping the invitation, “is our Everest.” Bill adjusted the cardboard dragon head under his arm. “Everest has fewer toddlers.” “Toddlers are just short security guards with jam on their faces.” “I’m not afraid of toddlers,” Bill said. “I’m concerned about the clown.” Across the car park, a clown in yellow trousers was unloading balloon animals from a hatchback, his painted smile fixed in a look of ancient suffering. Molly sniffed. “Professional rivalry?” “He looked at me. Clowns know things.” Molly ignored him and unfolded her plan, which was drawn on the back of a takeaway menu. There were arrows, stars, and one alarming sketch of a rabbit wearing night-vision goggles. She had labeled the present table TREASURE ISLAND. “We enter as entertainers,” she said. “You’re Barry the Birthday Dragon. I’m Princess Muffintop.” “Again, I object to the name.” “You lost naming rights when you glued sequins to your own elbow.” Bill raised his elbow. It sparkled accusingly. Inside the hall, children chanted something that sounded like a spell. A woman in a cardigan carried a cake shaped like a pirate ship, and twenty small humans followed her as if she were leading them to a promised land of icing. Bill swallowed. “What if they ask me to breathe fire?” “Cough dramatically. Say dragons are cutting down for health reasons.” “And the presents?” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “During the party game. Musical statues. Everyone freezes. We glide in, collect the parcels, glide out.” Bill stared at her. “You think children will freeze because music stops?” “It’s the law of parties.” “They’ll freeze for three seconds, then one will bite my tail.” Molly considered this. “Wear the thick trousers.” Bill looked down at his scaly costume legs. “These are curtains from your aunt’s conservatory.” “Exactly. Sturdy.” A sudden burst of laughter rattled the windows. A little girl in fairy wings pressed her face to the glass and stared directly at them. Molly smiled and waved with the smooth confidence of someone who had once escaped a museum dressed as a duke. Bill tried to wave too, but the dragon claw slipped from his hand and landed in his lap with a squeak. The fairy girl narrowed her eyes. “She’s made us,” Bill whispered. “She’s six.” “Six-year-olds are excellent witnesses. They remember shoes.” Molly folded the menu-plan and tucked it into her tiara. “Then we improvise.” Bill groaned. “Your improvising once involved a goose.” “And we got the necklace.” “The goose got the necklace.” Molly opened the van door. The noise from the hall rushed in: sugar, balloons, and impending chaos. She set her shoulders, adjusted her princess sash, and lifted a sack decorated with cheerful snowmen. Bill shuffled after her, dragon head tucked under one arm, tail dragging through a puddle. “For the record, I preferred banks.” “Banks don’t have gift receipts.” At the entrance, the birthday child’s mother beamed with desperate gratitude. “Oh, wonderful, you’re here! The entertainers canceled.” Molly curtsied. “Princess Muffintop never cancels.” Bill muttered, “She reschedules felonies.” The doors opened wide. Twenty children turned. The present table glittered beyond them like a forbidden altar. Molly smiled grandly. “Hello, darlings,” she cried. “Who wants a magical surprise?” Every hand shot up. Bill leaned close. “Molly, I think we’re the surprise.” For the first time all afternoon, Molly looked uncertain. Then a toddler hugged her leg, leaving a perfect handprint of chocolate on her skirt. She sighed. “Fine. We do one game. Then larceny.”