Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R7PXB2A800XQ2A6F1TND7

Molly crouched behind a hedge outside the community hall, peering through a gap in the leaves. Inside, balloons bobbed above a mountain of brightly wrapped presents. Bill crouched beside her, wearing a paper party hat he had found in the gutter. “Do you see the target?” she whispered. “I see seventeen targets,” Bill said. “And one enormous cake. We should steal that too.” “We are here for the presents.” “Of course. I’m just making sure the cake doesn’t feel neglected.” A shrill burst of children’s laughter came through the open window. Molly ducked. Bill’s hat slipped over his eyes. “Your disguise is working,” she said. “Nobody suspects a man dressed as a tiny birthday cone.” “It’s not a disguise. It’s a statement.” “It says you lost a fight with a stationery cupboard.” Bill lifted the hat and studied the hall. Parents clustered near the punch bowl, while a magician in a purple waistcoat pulled a rubber chicken from his sleeve. Every few seconds, another child raced past the presents. “Complications,” Molly murmured. “Children?” “Children. Parents. A magician. And that chicken.” “Could be an accomplice.” “It’s a rubber chicken.” “Exactly. No conscience.” Molly unfolded a napkin covered in pencil marks. The drawing showed the hall, a cake, and a stick figure labeled BILL falling into a large bucket. “Why am I in a bucket?” Bill asked. “You said you wanted a dramatic entrance.” “I said I wanted a dramatic exit.” “Same bucket. We’re economizing.” Bill pointed toward the present table. “We go in, take everything, leave before anyone notices.” “Everyone notices presents. That’s their whole purpose.” “Then we’ll take them after the party.” “After the party, the children will notice even more.” “Before the party?” “Then the parents notice.” Bill sighed. “This is why I prefer banks. They don’t sing.” From inside, the children began singing “Happy Birthday.” Molly glanced at the presents, then at Bill’s hat. A small girl pressed her face to the window and waved. Bill waved back before remembering he was supposed to be suspicious. “She thinks you’re the magician’s assistant,” Molly said. “Excellent. I’ll blend in.” “You can’t blend in. You’re wearing a hat shaped like a traffic cone.” The song ended in applause. The magician announced a surprise, and every child turned toward the present table. Molly’s plan napkin fluttered from her hand and landed near the door. Bill stared at it. “Should we retrieve the blueprint?” “It’s a napkin with a bucket on it.” “Still, it’s our best work.” The little girl opened the door. “Are you here for the party?” Molly stood, brushed leaves from her coat, and smiled. “We’re the entertainment.” Bill raised the rubber chicken he’d somehow acquired. “And this is our getaway vehicle.” The girl laughed and ushered them inside. Molly glanced at the presents. Bill glanced at the cake. “Remember,” she whispered, “we’re stealing nothing.” “Not even the cake?” “Especially not the cake.” “Fine,” Bill said. “But if they give us party bags, I’m considering that a successful heist.”