Run: 2026-07-09-01KX406PADGSWRB56VHFMN65ZW

Molly spread the birthday invitation across the café table and pinned its corners with two sugar shakers, a mustard bottle, and Bill’s left elbow. On the card, a glittery dinosaur wore a party hat and threatened extinction by cake. “Move your elbow,” Molly said. “It’s integral to the plan.” “It’s covering the address.” “I’m protecting sensitive information.” “You’re protecting Norwich.” Bill lifted his elbow. Beneath it, in purple crayon, were the words: Toby’s Seventh Birthday! Costumes! Games! Presents! Molly tapped the final word. “There. The payload.” Bill frowned. “Children’s presents?” “Untraceable merchandise. Robots, scooters, construction sets. No serial numbers, no security tags, no suspicious pawnshop questions.” “There will be suspicious children.” “Children are small.” “So are piranhas.” Rain needled the café window. Across the street, Toby’s house bulged with balloons. Parents arrived bearing bright packages, then departed with expressions of people temporarily released from prison. Molly produced two plastic bags. “Costumes.” Bill peered inside. “You said disguises.” “They are disguises.” “This is a fairy dress.” “You’re the entertainment.” “What are you?” “The responsible adult.” Bill examined the second bag. It contained a clipboard and a yellow vest. “That’s not a costume. That’s authority.” “Exactly.” At two o’clock, Molly marched up the garden path wearing the vest and carrying a toolbox. Bill fluttered behind her in pink wings, a silver wig, and work boots. A star-tipped wand protruded from his belt. The front door opened before they knocked. A woman with frosting in her hair grabbed Bill by the wrist. “Thank heavens! You’re late. They’ve eaten the blue sweets.” “We’re from the council,” Molly said. The woman stared at her. “Fairy inspection,” Molly added. “Kitchen,” the woman said, pointing wildly. “Good luck.” The hallway shook with shrieks. Twenty children galloped past dressed as dinosaurs, pirates, and one extremely convincing tax accountant. Bill flattened himself against the wall. “I’ve robbed banks quieter than this.” “Presents are in the sitting room.” “Guarded?” “By a sleeping Labrador.” “Professional?” “Drooling.” Molly slipped into the sitting room. A mountain of presents towered beside the sofa. The Labrador opened one eye, considered her moral character, and resumed snoring. Bill appeared at the doorway, pursued by six children chanting, “Magic! Magic! Magic!” “Do something,” Molly hissed. Bill raised his wand. “Behold! The vanishing fairy!” He ducked into the room and slammed the door. Small fists hammered behind him. Molly stuffed parcels into a laundry sack. Bill grabbed a long box labelled TOBY. “Bicycle,” he whispered. “Too obvious.” “Could be a trombone.” “Worse.” The Labrador woke, seized Bill’s wings, and pulled. Elastic snapped. Bill flew backward into the present mountain. The door burst open. Children flooded in and fell silent. Toby, a pirate dinosaur, pointed at the sack. “Are you stealing my presents?” Molly straightened. “No. We’re testing your security.” Toby narrowed his eyes. “Did I pass?” “Outstandingly.” “Then why is Fairy Bill sitting on my cake?” Bill looked down. Frosting oozed around his boots. “Magic,” he said weakly. The children cheered and demanded he do it again. While Bill was forced to sit on three cupcakes, Molly quietly replaced every present. They escaped ten minutes later with no loot, one punctured wing, and a party bag each. At the gate, Bill inspected his bag. “A whistle, two stickers, and chocolate coins.” Molly bit a coin. “Untraceable.” Behind them, twenty whistles began screaming. Bill sighed. “Next time, we rob a library.”