Run: 2026-09-23-01M36RAZKP2213PG517PA7J6ZF

The party occupied the village hall, a bright red balloon bobbing above its door like a warning buoy. Molly and Bill crouched behind a hedge, dressed in black except for Bill’s yellow rain boots, which squeaked whenever he breathed. Through the windows they could see a mountain of presents. “Remember, Molly,” Bill whispered. “We’re professionals. We enter, collect the gifts, and leave without attracting attention.” “You’re wearing boots that sound like a duck arguing with a staircase.” “They’re waterproof.” “So is the hall. We’re going inside.” A child in a paper crown darted past the window, pursued by an adult carrying a cake shaped like a dinosaur. Bill watched the cake vanish into the party. Molly watched Bill’s expression soften. “Don’t get sentimental,” she said. “That cake has frosting, not feelings.” “I’m thinking about the presents,” Bill said. “Somebody might have wrapped a toy duck. We could keep it.” “We are stealing everything. That’s what ‘all the presents’ means.” Inside, the children burst into song, each at a different speed. The noise rolled through the hall and rattled the windows. Molly checked the plan on the back of a parking ticket; Bill held an umbrella over it, though the rain had stopped. “First, we stroll in like guests,” Molly said. “Then we blend in.” “Do we know the birthday child?” “Not yet.” “Excellent. I’ll ask someone.” “You’ll ask no one. You’ll smile and look mysterious.” Bill practiced a mysterious smile. It resembled a man trying to remember whether he’d left soup on the stove. Molly sighed and led him toward the side entrance, where a sign read WELCOME, GRANDPARENTS! They slipped through behind a procession of relatives and emerged beside the coat rack. A woman handed Bill a party hat. He put it on immediately. Molly accepted one too, because refusing would have looked suspicious. They stood among the grown-ups while a magician pulled a rubber chicken from a silk hat. “Now?” Bill murmured. “Not yet. The chicken is part of the show.” “It’s a decoy?” “It’s a chicken.” The magician invited a volunteer to help. Bill raised his hand. Molly grabbed his sleeve, but too late: he was onstage, holding the rubber chicken while twenty children stared at him with solemn expectation. “Is this the part where I disappear?” Bill asked. “Only if you can do it quietly,” Molly called from the audience. The children laughed. Bill bowed, and the party hat slid over his eyes. In the confusion, Molly reached the present table. She gathered the gifts into a wobbling tower, then stopped when a small girl appeared beside her, clutching a glittery envelope. “Are those for the birthday kid?” the girl asked. “Technically,” Molly said. “Then you should give them to her. She’s having a bad day because her hamster died.” Molly looked at the tower. Bill joined her, the rubber chicken tucked under one arm. “New plan,” he said. “We return the presents, steal the cake, and leave with our dignity.” “We lost that at the boots.” They set the gifts back beneath the table. Molly added a card from her coat pocket, signed “Your mysterious friends.” Bill placed the rubber chicken on top as a bonus. “Happy birthday!” they shouted. The children cheered. The magician asked if they could stay for cake. “Absolutely,” Bill said. “We’re professionals.”