Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DA4H2DCXXM5FBVGAFQGSV1

Molly tapped the blueprint with a chewed pen. "Third floor, Hendricks' birthday party. Forty-two presents, all wrapped in gold paper. Our target is the pile by the piano." Bill squinted at the drawing. "Why is the piano on the third floor?" "Because the Hendrickses are rich and show off. Focus, Bill." "I am focused. I'm also wearing a fake mustache that itches like a sweater full of bees." He scratched his upper lip violently. "Do we really need the mustache?" "Nobody suspects a man with a mustache at a children's party." "Every child suspects a man with a mustache. Children are ruthless detectives." Molly sighed and pulled a folded paper from her coat. "Here's the plan. We enter through the bounce house in the backyard, crawl through the kitchen during the cake fight, and grab the presents while the clown is doing his balloon animals." "The clown," Bill said slowly, "is a terrifying man." "He is harmless." "He once made a dog out of a balloon and it looked at me like it knew my secrets." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're afraid of a balloon dog." "I'm afraid of balloon animals that stare. There's a difference." They slipped through the side gate, dodging a wagon full of shrieking toddlers. Bill froze as a small girl in a princess dress pointed directly at him. "Mister," she announced, "your mustache is falling off." Bill clapped a hand to his face. Sure enough, the mustache dangled sadly from one corner. "Uh, yes. Very observant. Sorry, that's just part of my... costume." "Are you a pirate?" "Yes," Bill said. "A very sneaky pirate." "Pirates don't wear mustaches like that." "Some do. Modern pirates." Molly grabbed his sleeve. "Bill. Presents. Now." They crept into the living room, where forty-two gold boxes gleamed under the chandelier. Bill grabbed an armful, then paused. "Molly, this one's ticking." "It's a music box." "It's ticking the way bombs tick." "Put it down, you coward." He did, carefully, and the box immediately began playing a shrill, off-key version of "Happy Birthday." Every head in the house swiveled toward them. Molly grinned weakly. "Run." They sprinted for the window, Bill still clutching three presents and the mustache stuck firmly to his thumb. Behind them, a tiny voice shouted, "Pirates! PIRATES!"