Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FXXR625WVDT2ARSNNT78Z3

Molly flattened herself against the back wall of the community hall, peering through a gap in the venue's crooked blinds. Inside, forty-odd children screamed with joy while a man in a foam banana costume attempted the limbo. "Right," she whispered, "the presents are stacked by the piano. Blue paper, gold paper, and that big pile wrapped in what I can only describe as sentient wallpaper." Bill crouched beside her, clutching a duffel bag and a pair of novelty reindeer antlers he insisted were essential to the operation. "Sentient wallpaper? That's a red flag, Molly. Nobody should wrap a present in something that might judge them." "Focus, Bill. We are not here for the wallpaper. We are here for the Pemberton twins' birthday loot. Their mother is a notorious gift-hoarder, and I intend to relieve her of at least three remote-control helicopters." "Three? Greedy. I was thinking one helicopter and a really nice bouncy castle pump." "We don't steal the pump, Bill. The pump is load-bearing." He sighed and adjusted his antlers. "Fine. What's the plan? Do we sneak in through the kitchen?" "Through the kitchen, past the cake, and straight to the piano. The cake is guarded by a very tired grandmother with a spatula." "Oh, not the spatula," Bill groaned. "I still have scars from the Hatherley fête." "Then you distract her. Ask her about her knitting. Nobody can resist a knitting question." "You're asking me to talk about knitting for four minutes?" "Five, if she has a cardigan on. Those things are an epic saga." Bill straightened, squared his shoulders, and tugged the antlers into place. "Right. And then?" "Then I slip behind the piano, grab the helicopters, and we exit through the fire door. Simple." "Nothing about this is simple, Molly. Last time you said simple, we ended up inside a bouncy castle for three hours." "That was a learning experience." A child burst through the kitchen door, shrieking about a missing balloon, and nearly collided with Bill. He froze, antlers askew, and gave the child a stiff, dignified nod. "Ho ho," he said weakly. The child stared at him, then at the duffel bag. "Are you the Christmas man?" Molly grabbed Bill's sleeve. "Yes. He is. Quickly, Bill, the presents." "Ho ho ho," Bill repeated, with considerably more conviction. The child shrugged and wandered off to find the balloon. Molly exhaled. "See? Nobody suspects a man in antlers." "Nobody suspects anything at a children's party, Molly. That's the beauty of it." They slipped through the kitchen door together, duffel bag rattling, straight toward the piano and a fortune in gift-wrapped wallpaper.