Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YHH0BR3HK17D7R9156CMVN

Molly spread the birthday invitation across the kitchen table and pinned its corners with four pickled onions. The invitation featured a cartoon giraffe wearing sunglasses, which made him look like the sort of witness who remembered faces. Outside, rain slapped the windows with the impatient fingers of a disappointed landlord. “Entry through the garden gate,” she said. “The party starts at two. We go in as entertainers, collect the presents, and leave before anyone demands balloon animals.” Bill studied the map she had drawn on the back of an electricity bill. The house was marked with an X, the cake with a skull, and the bouncy castle with a question mark. Bill had once lost a shoe in a bouncy castle and regarded them as predatory. “Why entertainers?” Bill asked. “Last time I made a balloon dog, it looked like an intestine. The children cried, and the dog itself seemed deeply disappointed, too.” Molly produced two enormous clown wigs from a shopping bag. One was pink; the other appeared to be a colony of orange worms holding a meeting. Bill put his on reluctantly. It slid over his eyes, giving him the air of a frightened mop awaiting its performance review. “Your job is distraction,” Molly said. “Tell jokes, juggle oranges, do whatever you like. I will gather the gifts into a sack marked DONATIONS. Nobody questions charity.” Bill opened the refrigerator and removed three oranges. He threw one into the air, dropped another, and somehow trapped the third beneath his armpit. The first orange landed in the sink with a splash that soaked the giraffe. Its sunglasses ran down its face like tiny black tears. “I have a concern,” he said. “What if the children notice their presents disappearing? Children are famously observant when it comes to their own presents and cake.” Molly tapped the map with a pencil. At the bottom she had written ESCAPE ROUTE, followed by a dotted line leading to the street. Unfortunately, the line also crossed the fishpond, the hedge, and a handwritten warning that said BEWARE OF GOOSE. Bill pointed at it. “That goose chased me last week. It took my sandwich, inspected my pockets, and honked until I apologized for having pockets in the first place.” Molly drew a circle around the goose and wrote BRIBE beside it. She retrieved a stale loaf from the cupboard, then reconsidered and replaced it with a bag of frozen peas. Even criminals, she believed, had a responsibility to feed waterfowl correctly. “Fine,” she said. “You handle the goose; I’ll handle the gifts. Then we meet at the gate, divide the loot, and never discuss the wigs ever again.” The doorbell rang. Bill opened the door to find a small boy holding a clipboard and wearing a paper crown. Behind him stood the goose. The boy checked his list, looked at their wigs, and beamed. Apparently the real entertainers had canceled. The goose eyed the peas. Bill had never felt so completely outnumbered by a customer.