Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NKDSG6C285WCW1RED40K5

Molly unrolled the floor plan across the bonnet of Bill’s car. A cartoon rabbit smiled up at them from the page. “Why does the venue have a rabbit logo?” Bill asked. “Because it’s a children’s party.” “No, I mean why is the rabbit wearing a waistcoat? He looks like he knows where the presents are.” Molly pinned the paper with a thermos. “The presents are in the community hall, beside the stage. We go in through the kitchen, cross the corridor, and leave through the fire exit.” “Stealing birthday presents from children,” Bill said. “At last, a crime with no moral complications whatsoever.” “Think of it as temporary redistribution.” “To whom?” “Us.” Bill studied the plan. “What’s the code word?” “Cupcake.” “What if someone offers us one?” “Then say no.” “What if it’s chocolate?” “Bill.” “I’m checking the security protocol.” Inside the hall, a burst of laughter rose above the music. Molly peered through the kitchen window. Bright paper streamers drooped from the ceiling. A dozen children raced in circles while a tired parent held a tray of juice boxes. “Kitchen’s clear,” she whispered. “Except for the woman with the tray.” “She’s going to the tables.” “And the enormous man dressed as a rabbit?” Molly lowered the binoculars. “That’s the entertainer.” “He has a waistcoat.” “I know.” “He’s guarding the presents.” “He’s leading a conga line.” The rabbit bounced past the window, followed by children waving paper crowns. Bill watched them go. “Could we perhaps steal the rabbit?” “No.” “Fine. But I want it noted that he’s the most suspicious person here.” They slipped through the kitchen door. Molly wore a flowered dress and a plastic tiara; Bill carried a tray of cupcakes. “Why am I holding these?” he murmured. “Because guests carry things.” “Guests carry gifts. These are cupcakes.” “Then look generous.” “I look like I’ve been assigned a task.” “That’s what generosity looks like.” They entered the corridor. At its end stood a table piled with brightly wrapped presents, each labeled in careful marker. Bill slowed. “Those are smaller than I expected.” “They’re for children.” “I expected more gold.” Molly reached for a silver parcel. “Take the whole pile.” A little girl appeared behind them, clutching a balloon. “Are you the party helpers?” Bill froze. “We’re the… presents department.” “That’s not a department,” said Molly. “It is now.” The girl pointed at his tray. “Can I have a cupcake?” Bill looked at the cupcake, then at Molly. “Protocol,” she hissed. He handed it over. “Cupcake.” The girl beamed and ran back to the party. Molly exhaled. “We’re leaving.” “But the presents—” “Not ours.” “You said temporary redistribution.” “I’ve reconsidered the policy.” They turned toward the exit. The rabbit entertainer blocked it, holding a paper plate. “Leaving already?” he asked. Bill raised the empty tray. “We’ve distributed the cupcakes.” “Excellent,” said the rabbit. “You’re the best volunteers we’ve had all afternoon.” Outside, Molly glanced back through the window. The children had gathered around the presents, shrieking as they tore the paper. Bill sighed. “I suppose we did help.” “We committed no crime.” “We entered under false pretenses.” “We wore costumes.” “You stole a cupcake.” “I donated it.” Bill considered this. “Next week, there’s a retirement party.” Molly started the car. “We’re not stealing from retirees.” “Of course not. We’ll be the entertainment.”