Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YEVMVMNDH0JH126BAPTF16

Molly spread the birthday invitation across the kitchen table, weighting its corners with a salt shaker and Bill’s unpaid parking tickets. A cartoon dinosaur grinned beneath the words PARTY AT TWO! Its tiny arms held a present almost as large as its head. “Security?” Molly asked. “Two parents, a magician, and a grandmother who looks like she’s seen active combat,” Bill said. “Armed?” “The grandmother has a handbag. The magician has rabbits. I wouldn’t underestimate either.” “Good. We go in disguised as entertainment.” “I can make a coin disappear.” “You owe me forty-seven pounds, Bill. I know.” Bill pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket. It showed a lopsided house, a garden, and what appeared to be a potato wearing a hat. “That’s the birthday boy,” he said. “I drew him from memory. We met at the supermarket, where he told me he was five and demanded my trolley.” “An experienced negotiator. Where are the presents?” “Dining room table, according to his mother. She invited me because I helped her carry her shopping.” “She invited you? Why are we breaking in?” “I didn’t say I was available. I said, ‘You’ll never see me coming,’ and she looked a bit worried.” Molly considered this, then drew an arrow from the garden to the dining room. Bill leaned over her shoulder, smelling faintly of pickled onions. “We need a distraction,” she said. “You start a game of musical chairs. When the music stops, everyone sits down, and I collect every present.” “What if somebody notices you carrying a mountain of gifts?” “I’ll tell them I’m putting them somewhere safe.” “Where?” “Our van.” “That sounds safe enough. It’s never managed to go more than twenty miles an hour.” Molly drew a second arrow, which passed directly through the potato’s head. Bill watched her erase it and add a small bow tie instead. “We’ll need costumes,” she said. “I’ll be a clown.” “You hate clowns.” “I know. Nobody will suspect I’m one.” “What about me?” “Dress as a parent. Wear something tired and bring a cake with a thumbprint in it.” “I could wear my own clothes and bring the cake I bought for us.” “Exactly. Try not to look suspicious.” Bill folded his arms. “I always look suspicious. At school they made me play the stolen bicycle in the nativity.” Molly slid the invitation into her pocket and stood. Outside, their van coughed as a pigeon landed on its bonnet. Bill followed her to the door. “One thing,” he said. “What if the children cry when we take all their presents?” “We’ll be long gone.” “And if they catch us?” “We’ll tell them it’s part of the party.” “What part?” “The treasure hunt. We’ll hand the presents back and say everybody won.” Bill considered this. “Could we keep one? To make it more challenging?” “Fine. But if it’s socks, I’m giving them to you for your birthday.” He brightened. “Do I get a party?” “Certainly. Bring your own cake.”