Run: 2026-09-23-01M36THVYKNQS8PJHPT63T4ZSM

Molly peered over the hedge at the backyard party. Streamers drooped. A dinosaur cake sweated in the sun. Presents sat in a pile no taller than a lawn chair. "Bill, that is the whole score," she said. "Wrapping paper and regret." Bill tugged his clip-on bow tie. "We slip in during musical chairs. I distract with a balloon animal. You grab the pile." "You cannot make a balloon animal," Molly said. "I can make a balloon sausage," Bill said. "Children respect confidence." A toddler stared at them through the slats. Molly smiled with all her teeth. "If we get made, we are the substitute magicians," she muttered. "No running. No shouting. And we do not take anything with a name tag that says Grandma." "What about the one from Uncle Steve?" Bill asked. "Uncle Steve can suffer," Molly said. "Everyone else gets a note that says the dog did it." Bill nodded, solemn as a man about to ruin a Tuesday. "Operation Juice Box is a go." "Stick to the plan this time," she said quietly. Somewhere inside, someone started Happy Birthday. They both waited, which was already the most professional thing either of them had ever done.