Run: 2026-07-09-01KX409NX6FDAMD0F6QQWEM0C8

“We’re agreed,” Molly whispered, crouched behind the hedge. “We enter the children’s party, locate the presents, and leave before anyone notices.” Bill adjusted his enormous black scarf. “And if anyone does notice?” “We improvise.” “You always say that just before something explodes.” “Nothing exploded last time.” “The bakery’s oven exploded.” “Technically, it was already having a difficult day.” Bill peered through the fence. Beyond it, balloons bobbed above a rented hall, and a banner announced: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TREVOR! A clown in a yellow wig guarded the entrance while children shrieked around a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts. “Why are we stealing presents from children?” Bill asked. “Because adults buy sensible things,” Molly said. “Children receive game consoles, miniature drones, and devices that can translate ancient languages.” “Trevor is six.” “Exactly. He may own a tablet with access to the internet.” Bill frowned. “That’s not a reason. That’s a public safety concern.” Molly handed him a clipboard. “You’re the entertainer.” “I’m dressed as a tax inspector.” “Children love bureaucracy.” “They don’t even know what bureaucracy is.” “That’s why it’s entertaining.” The clown suddenly turned toward them. Molly shoved Bill lower. “I’m beginning to think,” Bill whispered, “that stealing from a warehouse was less complicated.” “In a warehouse, there are cameras.” “There’s a clown here.” “Clowns are less reliable than cameras.” “That one is staring directly at us.” Molly stood and smiled. “Good afternoon! We’re from the Department of Birthday Compliance.” The clown narrowed his eyes. “You’re not on the guest list.” “Neither are you,” Bill said. Molly elbowed him. “We’re conducting a surprise inspection.” “Of what?” “Present security.” The clown folded his arms. “Present security?” “Very serious,” Molly said. “Unregistered wrapping paper can cause emotional distress.” A little girl approached, holding a plastic sword. “Are you robbers?” Bill brightened. “Yes.” Molly stepped on his foot. “No. We’re inspectors.” “Then why do you have a sack?” “For paperwork.” “Why is it empty?” “Administrative efficiency.” The girl pointed at Bill’s scarf. “That’s a burglar scarf.” Bill nodded solemnly. “It’s vintage.” Molly snatched the clipboard from him. “Let’s proceed. Bill, inspect the presents.” “Me?” “You’re the certified specialist.” “I am?” “You have the clipboard.” “That’s not certification.” “It is in this department.” They shuffled toward the gift pile. Molly lifted a glittering box. “This one appears suspicious.” Bill read the tag. “To Trevor, from Grandma.” “Classic cover identity,” Molly said. The clown grabbed her wrist. “Put it down.” At once, every child turned toward them. Molly sighed. “Fine. New plan.” Bill glanced at the exit. “Run?” “No. We tell the truth.” “You’ve lost your mind.” Molly raised her hands. “Everyone, we came to steal the presents.” The children gasped. Then Trevor shouted, “Cool! Are you villains?” Molly looked at Bill. “Apparently.” Bill grinned. “Do villains get cake?” The clown handed him a slice. Molly lowered her voice. “We’re changing the operation.” “To what?” “We steal the cake, leave the presents, and demand payment in frosting.” Bill considered this. “Finally, a professional plan.”