Run: 2026-09-23-01M37P1NRM3WS69W0CJF8FHY0A

Molly unfolded the blueprint across the dashboard of the van. It was a birthday invitation. It had a dinosaur on it wearing a party hat. "Tyler Pemberton," she announced. "Turning six. Saturday, two o'clock, 14 Larkspur Lane. Bouncy castle confirmed." Bill squinted at it. "How'd you get this?" "It was pinned to their fridge. I went in to read the meter." "We don't read meters." "The Pembertons don't know that, Bill." He nodded slowly, the way he always did when he understood nothing at all. "So what's the haul?" "Twenty-two kids. Thirty quid a present, conservatively. That's six hundred and sixty pounds of Lego, Nerf guns, and those slime kits." "The ones that glow?" "The ones that glow." Bill let out a low whistle. "What's the plan?" Molly produced a second document. It was drawn in crayon. "Phase one. We go in as the entertainment. Mrs Pemberton booked a magician called The Great Zanzibar. The Great Zanzibar is currently stranded in Leicester because someone let the air out of all four of his tyres." "Was that you?" "It was you, Bill. Yesterday. You said it was relaxing." "It was relaxing." He brightened. "So I'm the magician?" "You're the magician. I'm your glamorous assistant, Zanzibina." "I don't know any magic." "You know one trick." "The thumb one?" "The thumb one. You do it for forty minutes." Bill paled. "They'll riot, Molly. Six-year-olds are ruthless. My nephew once made a clown cry just by staring at him." "That's why there's Phase two." She tapped a crayon squiggle that might have been a cake. "At two forty-five, Mrs Pemberton brings out the cake. Every child in that garden turns toward the candles like moths. That's our window. Ninety seconds while they sing." "What if they sing fast?" "Nobody sings 'Happy Birthday' fast. There's always one kid who does a slow bit at the end, and there's always a dad who tries to harmonise." Bill considered this with the gravity of a man defusing a bomb. "And where are the presents?" "Kitchen table. Pile the height of a fridge. We sweep them into the Zanzibar Mystery Trunk and walk out the front door." "The trunk won't be big enough." "It's a magic trunk, Bill." "Is it, though?" Molly paused. "No. It's a laundry hamper with stars glued on. So we make two trips." "What about the party bags?" "Leave the party bags. We're not animals." Bill fidgeted with his seatbelt. "Molly, one small concern." "Go on." "What if Tyler cries?" "Tyler will not cry. Tyler will be too busy with cake." "But later. When he finds out." Molly stared out the windscreen for a long moment. Somewhere down the street, an ice cream van played a tinny tune. "Fine," she said. "We leave him one present." "The glowing slime?" "We are not leaving him the glowing slime." "Molly." She sighed, reached into the glovebox, and pulled out a false moustache, which she slapped into his palm. "Practise your thumb trick, Zanzibar."