Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YH6HNZCF01F8M18940TFNQ

The van smelled of crisps, cheap suits, and Bill’s cologne, which suggested a sailor had drowned in a vat of cough sweets. Molly spread a drawing of the house across the steering wheel. “Right,” she said. “We go in as entertainers.” Bill adjusted his red nose. “I thought we were going in as thieves.” “Thieves don’t get handed cake.” “Good point. What’s my character?” “A clown.” “What’s yours?” “The clown’s manager.” “Why do you get the clipboard?” “Because you drew a horse on your forehead.” Bill checked the mirror. “That’s a unicorn.” Molly tapped the drawing. “Presents are here, in the dining room. We distract the children, bag the gifts, and leave through the kitchen.” “What’s the distraction?” “You.” “I knew it. Juggling?” “Running.” “From?” “The children.” Bill frowned. “That isn’t entertainment. That’s my brother’s wedding.” Molly folded the map. “Remember, no names.” “Hello, I’m B—I mean, Gary.” “And I’m Molly.” “You just used your name.” “I’m allowed. I’m in charge.” “Gary’s in charge of Gary.” “Gary’s going in the boot.” A trumpet honked inside the house. Bill peered through the windscreen. “There are a lot of them.” “Children are easy. They believe anything.” “Good. Tell them I’m sensitive.” “Why?” “So they won’t ask about my crying.” “You cried at a balloon.” “That was one time. It was a very emotional balloon.” “It was a giraffe.” “It had your eyes.” “Fine. But if anyone asks, you’re my emotional support crocodile.” “Excellent.” He climbed out, then leaned back through the door. “I’m a crocodile.” “You’re a clown.” “A crocodile clown. I’ve found my motivation.” Molly locked the van. “Stay focused. We want every present: big boxes, small boxes, gift bags, envelopes.” “Even the one shaped like a banana?” “Especially that one.” “What if it’s a banana?” “Then it’s lunch.” Bill lifted the sack. “What if someone asks why we’re taking everything?” “Say the presents are being moved to a safer location.” “Where?” “The van.” “That isn’t safer. The handbrake’s broken.” “Then say it’s a surprise inspection.” “By whom?” “The Present Police.” Bill nodded. “Finally, a use for your hat.” “My hat says ‘Security.’” “Exactly. Nobody questions a hat.” They passed a sign reading HARRISON’S SIXTH BIRTHDAY and a shuddering inflatable castle. Bill stopped. “Molly.” “What?” “Why is there a police car in the drive?” “Harrison’s father collects them.” “Does he collect handcuffs too?” “Probably. Keep smiling.” Molly rang the bell. A woman in a paper crown opened the door. Bill whispered, “She’s onto us.” “She’s wearing a badge that says ‘World’s Okayest Mum.’” “That could be code.” “Just do the trick we practised.” Bill produced three handkerchiefs, a rubber duck, and their stash of burglary tools. The woman stared. “Ta-da,” said Bill. Molly coughed. “He’s new.” A small boy pointed at the lockpicks and shouted, “Dad! The clown’s brought your lockpicks!” Bill tucked away the duck. “Plan B?” Molly handed him the clipboard. “You’re the manager now.” “Does Plan B include cake?” “If we run fast enough.” Behind them, the castle tore free. Bill watched it go. “Gary’s taking the castle.” “Gary’s walking home.”