Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R7DJX34R146CB4E6JQ6MP

The map of the neighborhood was spread across the diner table, pinned beneath a milkshake, a ketchup bottle, and Bill’s left elbow. “According to this,” said Molly, “the birthday party is at the house with the enormous yellow balloon.” “Could be any house,” said Bill. “It says ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEO’ on the balloon.” “Then it’s probably the one with Leo.” Molly tapped the map. “We arrive, blend in, locate the presents, and leave with the entire pile.” “Do we have a pile-shaped vehicle?” “We have a car.” “Our car has one working door and a boot full of novelty mustaches.” “Then we’ll wear the mustaches. Nobody suspects a mustache.” “Nobody suspects a mustache because nobody wears one indoors.” “Exactly. They’ll be too confused to stop us.” Bill studied the map upside down. “What’s the code name for this operation?” “Operation Birthday Bandit.” “Too obvious. How about Operation Auntie June?” “Why Auntie June?” “Because every party has an Auntie June. She knows where the plates are, and people trust her.” Molly considered him. “Do you know how to be Auntie June?” “I can say, ‘Where’s the nice sharp knife?’” “That’s not a personality. That’s a warning.” A waitress set down two coffees. Bill thanked her, then leaned closer to the map. “What if the presents are already guarded?” “By whom?” “Children.” “Children are small. We’re professionals.” “Children are also loud, unpredictable, and sticky.” Molly glanced at the smudge of jam on his sleeve. “So are you.” “I’m sticky in a controlled way.” She pulled a notepad from her coat. “We need a distraction.” “I can juggle.” “You dropped three oranges and a shoe last time.” “The shoe was part of the act.” “It belonged to the grocer.” Bill frowned at the map. “What if we become entertainers? Nobody questions entertainers.” “Nobody questions entertainers because they’re waiting for them to stop.” “I could do magic.” “Can you make a present disappear?” “I can make a birthday cake disappear.” “That’s not magic. That’s why we’re banned from the bakery.” Bill brightened. “We could take the cake instead. Less wrapping.” “We are stealing presents, Bill. That’s the job.” “Right. Presents. Do we know what’s in them?” “No.” “What if they’re socks?” “Then we’ll be criminals with warm feet.” A gust of wind rattled the diner window. On the sidewalk outside, a little boy marched past carrying a paper crown. He was followed by a woman carrying a gift bag nearly as large as he was. Bill watched them go. “That bag could hold a pony.” “Or a toy pony.” “Either way, awkward getaway.” Molly folded the map. “We enter as guests, act natural, and don’t touch anything until we’ve assessed the situation.” “Natural,” Bill repeated, attempting a smile so strained it looked like a dental emergency. “And if a child asks who we are?” “Uncle Bill and Auntie Molly.” “We’re not related.” “Neither are most uncles at parties.” Molly stood. “Fine. Operation Auntie June begins at noon.” Bill put on one of the novelty mustaches. It covered his mouth. “Can you still talk?” “Mm-hm.” “Good. Practice saying ‘happy birthday’ without frightening anyone.” He tried. The mustache slid into his coffee. Molly sighed. “We’re going to need a better disguise.” “And a towel,” said Bill.