Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YEC2PWEE3P589WH4H7TA67

Molly unfolded the plan across Bill's kitchen table, weighting its corners with a stapler, a biscuit, and two unpaid parking tickets. Outside, rain ticked against the van. Inside, Bill was wearing a false moustache, although nobody had asked him to. "Why are you fuzzy?" Molly asked. "It helps me think like a criminal." "You look like a disappointed walrus." "Exactly. Nobody suspects a walrus." Molly tapped the drawing of a church hall. "Tomorrow, thirty children attend a pirate party here. While they watch the magician, we empty the present table and leave through the bouncy castle." "That's not an exit." Bill studied the route, his moustache drooping over his lip. Molly produced two costumes from a laundry bag: a scarlet ringmaster's coat and something green, sequined, and violently cheerful. "I'm the ringmaster," Molly said. "Obviously." "You're my assistant, Sparkles the Dragon." Bill held up the costume. "This has wings." "Morale wings." "Where are the trousers?" "Dragons don't need trousers." "They do if they're arrestable." Molly checked her list, ignoring the costume's alarming lack of fabric below Bill's waist. "Fine. But if a toddler pulls my tail, I'm pressing charges." "Against the toddler?" "His parents. They should have trained him better." Next came transport. Molly drew a chalk line from the hall to the van, then around a pond that had not appeared on any map but seemed spiritually important. "At two fifteen, the magician performs," Molly said. "At two twenty, the children sing. At two twenty-five, we become rich." "What's at two thirty?" "Cake. Nobody suspects thieves before cake." "Everybody suspects thieves before cake. Cake makes people territorial." "Fine. We strike during singing." "Why?" "Cover. Have you heard thirty children sing?" Bill nodded gravely and wrote CAKE SECURITY beneath the timetable, underlining it until the chalk snapped cleanly in half. From a shoebox, Molly took thirty carrier bags printed with smiling puppies. Bill peeled off his moustache, inspected it, and stuck it to his forehead for safekeeping. "One bag per present," she said. "No shaking, no squeezing, and no opening anything that giggles." "What if something ticks?" "Then it's either a clock or a very relaxed bomb. Keep moving." "And the birthday child?" "Distraction is your department." Bill pointed at himself. "I have sequins and no trousers." "So nobody looks at my face." Molly was already investigating whether a scooter could support a getaway sidecar made from a laundry basket. At last, Molly rolled up the plan and tucked it into her coat. Bill climbed into the dragon costume, which immediately played a tinny version of a birthday song. "Is there an off switch?" he asked. "No. It's confidence music." "It's a warning siren with delusions." Molly handed him the puppy bags. "Remember: in, out, and absolutely no looting the party food." "You've written 'sausage rolls' beside 'presents.'" "That's intelligence." "It's a menu." "Then we've planned lunch too." Bill sighed. "Someday, we'll steal something dull." "Like what?" "A duvet." Outside, their van's alarm chirped, apparently offended by the singing dragon.