Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PQG9T7X9F1TP01H0SCB83

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table and pinned the corners with a teapot, two mugs, and a deeply offended cat. It was drawn in purple crayon on the back of the party invitation, which was the only paper the Hendersons had provided. "Tomorrow at two," she said, tapping the paper, "little Timmy Henderson turns seven. Thirty children. Thirty presents. One gift table, completely unguarded." Bill leaned in until his nose nearly touched the crayon. "Why is there a dragon on it?" "That's the bouncy castle." "It's got teeth." "It's an artistic choice, Bill. Focus." She slid a list toward him, written with the grim precision of a woman who had once robbed a bakery and never eaten a single croissant. "Phase one. You arrive dressed as Captain Balloonbeard, the pirate entertainer. You distract the children." "With what?" "Balloon animals." Bill paled. "Molly, I can't make balloon animals. The last time I tried, I made a sausage, and then it popped, and then I cried." "So make sausages. Tell them they're very thin dogs. Children are gullible. That's the entire foundation of this plan." "Do I at least get an eyepatch?" "You get two eyepatches." "How will I see?" "You won't need to see. You'll need to be loud." Molly sighed the sigh of a woman who had chosen her partner from a very small pool. The cat knocked the teapot over. Neither of them moved to catch it. Tea spread slowly across the purple garden, drowning the dragon. "Phase two," Molly continued. "While you're distracting them, I slip through the side gate disguised as a mother." "Whose mother?" "Anyone's. Nobody at a children's party knows which parent belongs to which child. They just nod at each other and talk about school catchment areas." Bill nodded slowly, as though this were a profound truth about the world, which, to be fair, it was. "And then?" "I load the presents into this." She lifted a pink wheelie suitcase with a unicorn on it. "Nobody questions a unicorn suitcase." "What if Timmy's mum notices the presents are gone?" "She won't. That's where the cake comes in." "We're stealing the cake as well?" "No, Bill, we are not stealing the cake. We're not animals. The cake is the diversion. At exactly two forty-five, you shout 'Who wants cake?' and thirty sugar-crazed children stampede toward the kitchen. In the chaos, I walk out the front door." Bill looked at the drowned dragon, the unicorn suitcase, and finally at Molly. "Can I ask one question?" "If you must." "What if one of the presents is a puppy?" Molly opened her mouth, then closed it. She had planned for guard dogs, nosy neighbours, and grandmothers with sharp handbags. She had not planned for this. "Then," she said at last, very carefully, "we keep the puppy." Bill beamed. "I've always wanted to be a dad." The cat, sensing the moral decline of the household, left the room.