Run: 2026-10-05-01M46BFCFRH2D5P1WX8S7BKD03

Molly spread the birthday invitation across their kitchen table. Bill examined the glittery unicorn with professional suspicion, while a stolen grandfather clock ticked disapprovingly beside the refrigerator full of mustard. “We’re not robbing children. We’re liberating presents from a system that rewards people merely for surviving another year. Also, the invitation says there’s a magician. Those people already understand the sudden disappearance of valuable property.” “I object to the target. Children scream, bite, and employ adults as unpaid security. Last month a toddler identified me from my shoes. I was wearing different shoes. That’s the kind of witness we’re facing.” Bill placed party hats on the table. One had a pompom; the other bore the words BIRTHDAY PRINCESS. Molly selected the princess hat without acknowledging the question in his eyebrows. “Our disguise is simple. We’re distant relatives. Every family has two vaguely disappointing cousins nobody remembers inviting. You’ll be Uncle Bill, beloved for your balloon animals. I’ll be Aunt Molly, recently returned from abroad, allegedly.” “I can only make balloon sausages. Sometimes they become balloon ruptures. And where abroad? Because if anyone asks me about your travels, I’ll panic and say prison. That’s technically somewhere else, but socially quite awkward.” Molly opened her notebook to a page labeled OPERATION HAPPY RETURNS. Beneath it, Bill had drawn a cake wearing handcuffs. She stared until he added candles to soften the image. “The presents are the objective, not the cake. We take every box, every bag, every suspicious envelope from a grandmother. We leave the singing, the sticky furniture, and whatever emotional disaster follows competitive musical chairs.” “What if the boxes contain educational toys? I refuse to risk incarceration for fractions. And what if there’s a puppy? You can’t fence a puppy. Well, you can, but that’s gardening, not our usual profession.” Outside, a delivery van stopped at the neighboring house. Through the window, they watched a woman carry in a small cake. Behind her shuffled a boy dressed as a dragon. “That’s him. The birthday boy. He looks smaller than the photograph. Why’s he carrying his own folding chair? Bill, stop making that face. We agreed this was business. You’re doing the wounded spaniel thing again.” “His dragon tail is dragging. That’s not a criminal observation, just a tailoring concern. Also, nobody’s arrived. Perhaps we could postpone until he’s forty, when presents become socks and stealing them counts as public service.” Molly closed the notebook. Bill removed his party hat, then put it back on. The grandfather clock chimed eleven, sounding smug enough that Molly threatened it with a butter knife. “Change of plan. We break into the party, but we bring presents. That’s still infiltration. Nobody needs to know we’ve gone soft. Fetch the unopened toaster from Tuesday’s burglary and something a child might enjoy.” “I’ve got a dinosaur puzzle, legitimate. Bought it for myself. And balloons. We could stay for cake. Strictly reconnaissance, obviously. Molly, if anyone asks, are we cousins or uncles? Because the princess situation complicates things.”