Run: 2026-09-23-01M36RF5TNR60RFXKZGA6FAGB2

“Are you sure this is the party?” Molly asked, peering through the van’s rain-streaked window. Bill checked the invitation. “It says, ‘Toby’s sixth birthday, Saturday, two o’clock.’ It is Saturday. It is two o’clock. And there’s a banner that says TOBY.” “It also says ‘No grown-ups without a grown-up.’” “That’s a rule for guests.” “We’re not guests.” “We’re professionals.” “Professionals don’t wear matching fake moustaches.” “They were on sale in a two-pack.” Molly lowered her binoculars. “The presents are stacked beside the cake.” “Excellent.” “Under a sign that says PLEASE LEAVE PRESENTS HERE.” “Even better. They’ve organized the loot for us.” “They’ve organized birthday presents for a six-year-old.” “Which is why we’ll be quick, discreet, and completely invisible.” Bill climbed out of the van wearing a purple party hat. Molly stared at it. “What?” he said. “It’s camouflage.” “It has a spinning propeller.” “Children love propellers.” “So do toddlers. That’s not the same as blending in.” Bill tugged the hat off. “Fine. We enter as entertainers.” “What do you entertain?” “I can juggle.” “With what?” “Three oranges.” “Those are our lunch.” “I can juggle two.” Molly considered the house. From inside came shrieks, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of a child discovering a kazoo. “We walk in, take every present, and walk out. No improvising.” “Absolutely. I’ll be the distraction.” “You are always the distraction.” “I’m a natural.” “You once distracted a bank teller by asking if the vault was heated.” “And she answered! Very friendly woman.” The front door opened. A little boy shot out, clutching a cardboard crown. He stopped beside the van and peered at them. “Are you the magicians?” he asked. Bill smiled. “We can be.” “Can you make my uncle disappear? He keeps doing impressions.” Molly leaned toward Bill. “That sounds like a paying job.” The boy pointed at the presents. “Those are for me. But you can have a cupcake if you come inside.” Bill glanced at the stack of gifts. Molly glanced at Bill. For a moment, the whole elaborate plan hung between them, flimsy as Bill’s moustache. “Cupcake first,” Molly said. “Then we steal the presents?” Bill whispered. “Then we assess the cupcake.” They followed the boy inside. A woman in a paper crown handed them each a cupcake and asked if they were the entertainers. “Professional magicians,” Bill said. “Formerly,” Molly added. A child shoved a kazoo into Bill’s hand. “Make it vanish!” Bill looked at Molly. She took the kazoo, tucked it into her sleeve, and produced it from behind the child’s ear. The room erupted. “Can you do the presents next?” the boy asked. Molly looked at the bright pile, at the birthday boy’s delighted face, and at Bill already reaching for a second cupcake. “Certainly,” she said. “We’ll make them all disappear.” The children gasped. “Into your bedroom,” Molly added. “Before anyone trips over them.” Bill nodded solemnly. “A very advanced illusion.” They spent the next hour carrying gifts to the bedroom, one at a time. When they finally left, Molly had frosting on her coat, Bill had a paper crown on his head, and neither had stolen a thing. “Successful operation?” Bill asked. Molly considered the empty cupcake tray. “We got away with dessert.”