Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCRGD9RV3H6T09MJCSMJ0Y1

"Presents," said Bill. "Dozens of them. All wrapped, all unattended, all in one room." "It's a six-year-old's birthday party." "It's a *vault*, Molly, with balloons." "What's in the presents, Bill?" "Riches." "Colouring books." "Riches in the *emotional* sense—" "Say the word 'plan' or I'm leaving." "Right. I go in as the entertainer. Bingo the Clown. Big shoes, small bicycle, tragic backstory." "And me?" "Aunt Deborah." "Whose aunt?" "Nobody's. That's the beauty. Every party has an Aunt Deborah nobody can place, and nobody asks, because asking is rude." "And Aunt Deborah does what, exactly?" "Compliments the sponge cake. Drifts toward the present table. Fills her enormous handbag." "How enormous?" "Wheeled." "Bill." "Aunt Deborah has a bad hip. It's sympathetic." "And when forty children notice their presents walking out the door?" "They won't, because Bingo will be juggling." "You can't juggle." "I can drop things dramatically. Children adore incompetence." "This is the worst plan you've ever had." "You said that about the aquarium." "We stole a penguin, Bill." "We *liberated* a penguin." "It lives in my bath." "And it's thriving. Are you in?" "...What time does the cake come out?" "Three." "Then Aunt Deborah arrives at half two. She likes to help."