Run: 2026-10-20-01M5C6C79V5G9PC5TAMWMMXY36

Bill flattened the van’s sun visor and peered through the windshield at the bouncy castle wobbling in the Hendersons’ front garden. “So we’re agreed. We go in as clowns, grab the presents, and exit before the magic man finishes his second rabbit.” “No, Bill, we are not agreed,” Molly said, snapping the lid of the glove compartment. “Clowns are the first people they search. Every parent at that party has seen a true-crime documentary about a clown.” “That’s why it’s perfect. Nobody suspects the obvious clown.” “Everybody suspects the obvious clown. Last time you wore a disguise, you got arrested by a mall Santa.” “That was a jurisdictional misunderstanding. Besides, I’ve refined the plan. We tell them we’re from the birthday entertainment agency. We bring a piñata. We leave with the piñata and all the presents inside it.” Molly stared at him. “You want to stuff forty presents into a donkey?” “It’s a llama. And yes. It’s called supply-chain innovation.” “The piñata is made of papier-mâché, Bill. It’ll split before we reach the gate.” “Then we use the birthday cake. Have you seen the size of that thing? It’s a three-tier fortress. We hollow out the middle tier, load it with gift cards, and roll it out on a catering trolley.” “And the children?” “They’ll be distracted by the cake. That’s the beauty of it. We’re not stealing from children. We’re stealing from the concept of children’s parties.” Molly rubbed her temples. “What about the parents? The ones with phones and suspicion and, in one case, a Rottweiler named Princess?” “Princess loves me. I’ve got sausages.” “Of course you do.” “Look, the party starts at two. The magician arrives at two fifteen. The parents gather near the prosecco table at two twenty. That gives us a seven-minute window to swap the presents for wrapped bricks.” “Wrapped bricks?” “It’s a classic. They don’t notice until the kids open them. By then we’re on the M25 eating a bag of party rings.” “That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” Molly said. “And I once helped you steal a van full of flotation devices by pretending to be a lifeguard at a swimming gala.” “That worked.” “We sank.” “Only a little. This time, we’ve got a clown car.” “We’re in a Fiesta.” “A clown Fiesta.” Bill grinned. “Molly, trust me. We walk in with balloons, we walk out with presents. What could possibly go wrong?” “The magician could be an off-duty police officer.” “He’s called Marvin the Mysterious.” “That’s exactly what an undercover officer would call himself.” Bill checked his watch. “Two minutes. Put on the wig.” “I’m not wearing the wig.” “Then we’re not a team.” Molly sighed and pulled the rainbow wig from the glovebox. “Fine. But if a six-year-old asks me to make a balloon dog, you’re doing the talking.”