Run: 2026-10-08-01M4D9W8MCB1VBE40KM38JM2C5

The rain had finally stopped, which Molly considered a personal insult. She crouched beside Bill behind the hedge at number 14 Larkspur Close, watching pink balloons bob against the front window of a house full of screaming six-year-olds. "Forty-two children," Bill whispered, squinting at his crumpled notepad. "Forty-two presents. Most of them wrapped in paper with unicorns on it. Which I find deeply suspicious." "Never mind the unicorns. Where's the nanny?" "Asleep on the sofa. I slipped her a cupcake with sleeping powder in the frosting." "That was a biscuit, Bill." "Potato, potato. The point is, she's out cold, and nobody's guarding the back gate." Molly peered over the hedge. A bouncy castle sagged in the garden like a deflated jelly, and somewhere inside, a small boy was wailing about a lost cake. Molly had dressed for the job in a black balaclava, a stolen waiter's jacket, and a pair of novelty wellington boots shaped like frogs. At the time, they had seemed stealthy. "Right. The plan," she said. "We slip through the kitchen, grab the presents from the dining table, and leave through the gate before anyone notices." "Quick, quiet, professional." "Why are you carrying a tuba?" "It's for the getaway. Nobody suspects a man with a tuba." "You can't play the tuba." "I'm not going to play it. I'm going to stuff the loot inside it. Have you seen how big the bell is?" Molly stared at him for a long moment. "Bill, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said, and you once tried to rob a bank with a rubber chicken." "The chicken was very convincing." Inside the house, a party game began. A tinny voice shouted, "Pass the parcel!" followed by a chorus of shrieks loud enough to rattle the windows. "Now," Molly whispered. "Move." They scurried across the lawn, Bill's tuba clanking against the garden gnomes and Molly's frog boots squeaking with every step. They reached the back door just as it swung open. A tiny girl in a fairy costume stood there, holding a half-eaten sausage roll and blinking up at them. "Are you the magic men?" she asked. Molly and Bill exchanged a look. "Yes," said Bill. "No," said Molly. The girl frowned. "Which one?" "Both," Bill said, and bolted past her with the tuba, straight into the kitchen, where a mountain of gift-wrapped boxes waited, unicorns and all.