Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YHRDKM2DD7V5ACWNEA3DXP

Molly spread the birthday invitation across the kitchen table and pinned its corners with four stolen sugar packets. The unicorn smiled beneath a threatening rainbow. “The invitation says Saturday, two o’clock, no gifts necessary. That last part is obviously a lie. Children don’t summon clowns for the pleasure of conversation.” Bill examined his napkin map: a rectangle labeled HOUSE, a circle labeled TRAMPOLINE, and a large stain where he had accidentally parked his coffee cup. “We enter through the garden, avoid the trampoline, and locate the presents. I assume they’ll be guarded by a dragon or somebody’s extremely attentive grandmother.” Molly uncapped a marker and drew an arrow to the kitchen. Her previous career as a caterer had taught her where families hid their scissors. “Grandmother is occupied running the cake operation. We’ll pose as entertainers, collect the gifts in a sack, and exit before anyone asks for balloon animals.” Bill produced a red nose from his pocket. It squeaked against the table, causing both thieves to flinch and the upstairs neighbor’s dog to bark. “I can make balloon animals. Unfortunately, they’re all snakes. Sometimes, if the balloon has a knot in the middle, I call it a pregnant snake.” Molly inspected the guest list, written on the invitation’s reverse. Twenty children. Two parents. One magician. She circled the magician three times in increasingly nervous ink. “We cannot compete with a magician. He’ll pull a rabbit out of his hat, and you’ll pull out your wallet and applaud for twenty minutes.” Bill looked offended, then thoughtful. He checked his wallet. Three discount coupons and a photograph of his mother stared back at him. His shoulders fell. “Fine. We dress as delivery drivers. Nobody questions a person carrying a clipboard, especially if that person looks tired and mildly disappointed in entire humanity.” Molly borrowed his wallet, extracted a coupon, and turned it over. On the back she wrote OFFICIAL PRESENT INSPECTION in letters large enough to frighten. “We tell the parents the gifts have been recalled. Faulty wrapping. Hazardous ribbons. Excessive joy. Then we load everything into your van and drive away.” Bill glanced toward the window, where his van slumped at the curb. Somebody had painted FREE CANDY on its side. That somebody was unfortunately Bill. “We could use your car instead. Mine has a reputation, and the back doors only open from the inside, which complicates every single delivery considerably.” Molly studied the invitation again. The address looked familiar. So did the handwriting. Slowly, she turned the card over and read the guest of honor. “Bill, this party is for your nephew. Your sister invited you personally, and the first present on the list is the bicycle you already bought.” Bill considered this. Outside, the dog began barking again, perhaps sensing the collapse of a criminal enterprise. Bill folded the map and pocketed his nose. “Then we’ll need a new plan. We attend the party, eat the cake, and steal back the bicycle if he doesn’t say thank you properly.”