Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R6ZP4QXTBQ50D5V3XK4HF

At midnight, Molly and Bill crouched behind the birthday banner, studying the brightly wrapped presents through the community hall’s enormous window with professional concern indeed. “Remember, Bill, we enter quietly, collect every present, and leave before anyone notices our excellent disguises or asks why you’re wearing a lampshade at midnight.” Bill adjusted the lampshade, which bore tiny stars and a price sticker. His black shirt made him resemble a suspicious planet in a laundry basket. “It’s camouflage, Molly. Children trust astronomy. Also, the shade has ventilation, unlike your burglar mask, which smells strongly of onion and disappointment from lunch yesterday.” Inside, a clown tested a microphone while parents arranged cupcakes. Every few seconds, the speaker emitted a noise like a duck discovering taxes and despair. “Wait for the song, then slip in behind the cake. Nobody watches the present table during ‘Happy Birthday’; they watch frosting with religious concentration there.” Molly peered through a gap. The cake was shaped like a pirate ship, complete with gummy lifeboats and one candle burning sideways in the draft. “Good. If things go wrong, I’ll hide inside it. No one suspects a man inside a cake unless he starts asking for plates or cutlery.” Before Molly could answer, the clown announced a magic trick. Bill flinched, and his lampshade slipped down, covering his face entirely like a startled tulip. “Steady, Bill. That’s merely entertainment. The real danger is the children; they have excellent peripheral vision and no respect for disguises or adult authority whatsoever.” At the song’s first note, they slipped through the side door, which Bill had assumed was locked but had actually pushed open with one finger. “Operation Wrapped Wonder is underway. I’ll take the big boxes; you take the small ones, and we’ll meet by the emergency exit near the balloons.” Molly reached for a glittery parcel. A little girl appeared beside it, asked whether Molly was the princess’s aunt, then frowned at her shoes suspiciously. “No, sweetheart. We’re delivering these gifts to the children; Bill has an unusual job in festive logistics, and I supervise his paperwork very carefully myself.” Molly glanced at Bill, who had gathered three presents and was now tangled in curling ribbon like a festive octopus caught stealing during a parade. “She supervises everything, including my lunch breaks. These presents are in excellent hands, provided nobody asks to see our official paperwork, which is imaginary, naturally.” The girl nodded, apparently satisfied. Then she pointed toward the wall, where Bill’s unmistakable face grinned from a wanted poster beside the balloons and streamers. “Ah. That’s my brother. We have similar noses, except his is on a poster and mine is currently under this shade, rather uncomfortably, thank you.” Parents turned. The clown raised an eyebrow. Molly quietly returned the parcels, while Bill’s lampshade rolled across the floor and stopped beneath the cake awkwardly. “Retreat?” “Absolutely. But first, may I ask the birthday girl whether the cake has a ventilation system and a side door for discreet emergency departures?”