Run: 2026-07-09-01KX41A60ZNC385HZTZ0J16ZYJ

Molly spread the crayon map across the café table. “The target is here.” Bill squinted. “That’s a drawing of a dragon eating a postman.” “It’s a floor plan.” “Then why is the kitchen breathing fire?” “Because I borrowed the map from the birthday boy. Focus. At three o’clock, twenty-six children enter Happy Hippo Party Palace. At three-ten, presents are stacked beside the throne.” “What throne?” “The birthday throne.” “You can’t just add ‘birthday’ to furniture and make it sinister.” “Birthday gallows.” “Stop.” “Birthday iron maiden.” “Molly.” “Fine. The presents remain unguarded while everyone watches Professor Pudding’s Magic Explosion.” Bill lowered his voice. “What explodes?” “Pudding, presumably.” “Presumably? I’m not risking custard shrapnel.” “You’ll be wearing protective gear.” “A paper crown is not protective gear.” “It’ll protect your identity.” “I’m forty-three. A paper crown makes me look like a bankrupt king.” “Exactly. Nobody suspects royalty.” A waiter approached. Molly folded the map. Bill smiled. “We’re planning a surprise party.” “For children?” asked the waiter. “For parole officers,” Molly said. The waiter retreated. Bill sighed. “How do we get inside?” “Disguises. I’ll be Princess Sparkleberry.” “You don’t look like Princess Sparkleberry.” “Nobody does. She’s fictional.” “And me?” “Gordon the Giraffe.” “I’m not wearing the neck.” “The neck is essential.” “The neck got stuck in a ceiling fan last time.” “That ceiling fan was unusually aggressive.” “It carried me through a conservatory.” “You made the local news.” “My mother recorded it.” “Publicity is useful.” “She plays it at Christmas.” Molly tapped the map. “We enter through the balloon arch, mingle, and wait for the magician. When the lights dim, you create a diversion.” “What kind?” “Release the ferret.” Bill stared. “We have a ferret?” “We will after lunch.” “I’m allergic.” “To lunch?” “To ferrets.” “Then don’t inhale it.” “And while everyone screams?” “I load the presents into the laundry cart.” “Why is there a laundry cart?” “Children generate jam.” “That sentence explains too much.” “We wheel the haul through the kitchen and escape in the ice-cream van.” “Do we own an ice-cream van?” “We will temporarily.” “That means steal.” “It means borrow without paperwork.” “What if the children chase us?” “They’re six.” “They’re fast, Molly. Low center of gravity. No pensions to lose.” “I’ve prepared obstacles.” “Please don’t say marbles.” “Cupcakes.” “You’ll waste cupcakes?” “For the operation.” Bill looked horrified. “We’re thieves, not monsters.” A balloon popped near the counter. Both ducked. Molly rose first. “Nerves?” “Professional reflexes.” “You hid behind a scone.” “It was structural cover.” She slid him a photograph. “Here’s the present table.” Bill studied the mountain of bright parcels. “Hold on. Those labels say ‘For Children’s Hospital.’” Molly grabbed the picture. “What?” “It’s a charity party.” Silence settled between them. “We can’t steal those,” Molly said. “Obviously.” “We’ll steal from somewhere else.” “Obviously.” Molly refolded the dragon map. “What about Professor Pudding?” Bill smiled slowly. “Magicians carry cash.” “And explosive custard.” “We’ll wear crowns.”