Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FYA12CQBMGVNTM0FCJZY29

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through the gap in the fence at the bouncy castle and the glowing balloon arch. "Right. Phase one. Are you listening, Bill?" Bill was busy adjusting a fake moustache in the reflection of a garden gnome. "I'm listening. I'm also thinking this moustache is a tad too bushy." "It's a children's party, Bill. Nobody looks at the moustache. They're all staring at the piñata." "That's what worries me. Kids notice everything. Last time, a six-year-old told me my shoes didn't match my personality." "Your shoes don't match your personality. They're clown shoes." Molly tapped a clipboard. "Now, the plan. We wait for the magician to finish his trick with the rabbit. When the crowd cheers, we slip through the side gate, grab the presents from the table by the cake, and load them into the wheelbarrow." "Why a wheelbarrow?" "Because it's the only thing in this garden nobody would think to check." Bill squinted. "What about the security?" "There's a dog." "A dog? Molly, you said there were no dogs." "I said there were no *guard* dogs. This one is called Biscuit, and he's wearing a party hat. He's basically a pensioner." Right on cue, a small golden retriever trotted past, wearing a paper crown, and sneezed directly onto Bill's shoe. "He's sniffing you," Molly whispered. "Be cool." "I am being cool. I'm a cool, damp criminal." They waited as the magician produced a sad, floppy rabbit from a top hat. The children gasped. A toddler burst into tears. The magician bowed, looking relieved. "Now!" Molly hissed. They scrambled across the lawn, bent low, and reached the gift table. Bill grabbed a large box wrapped in shiny blue paper. "This one's heavy. Do you think it's a pony?" "Shh! Just load it." "What if it's a pony and we're stealing a pony?" "Then we're the most ambitious thieves in the county." A small voice piped up from the bouncy castle. "Excuse me! That's my present!" Molly froze. Bill froze. A little girl in a sparkly dress stood with her hands on her hips. "Um," said Molly. "Hello there. We're, uh, just checking the presents for quality control." "You're not allowed to take them. It's my birthday." Bill set the box down very gently. "Happy birthday," he said weakly. "Is it true you're turning seven?" "I'm turning six," she said. "And you have a funny moustache." "Thank you," Bill said, peeling it off. "It was a terrible idea." Molly sighed and pushed the wheelbarrow back toward the hedge. "Plan B." "What's Plan B?" "We go to the bakery and steal cupcakes instead. Nobody cries over cupcakes." Bill brightened. "Now that is a plan I can get behind."