Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YHYDSQSNCZQW9NJ1KVVMCV

Molly spread the plan across Bill’s kitchen table, weighing down one corner with a tin of beans and the other with Bill’s confiscated water pistol. “This,” she said, “is our masterpiece.” Bill leaned closer. “You’ve drawn a potato.” “That’s the birthday boy.” “Why is he wearing a crown?” “Because his mother calls him King Jasper.” “Of course she does.” Rain silvered the windows. The van keys waited beside a box marked DISGUISES, with DEFINITELY NOT DISGUISES written beneath. “The party starts at two,” Molly said. “We arrive at two fifteen as entertainers.” “What sort of entertainers?” “Magicians.” “I can’t do magic.” “You made my rent disappear.” “That was investing.” “You invested in a beetle racetrack.” “The infrastructure was excellent.” Molly tapped the drawing. “While you perform, I move the presents into the van.” “All forty?” “All forty.” “Including the big one?” “Especially the big one.” “That big one is a piano.” “Then develop some enthusiasm.” Bill examined the list. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, which had retreated and offered no assistance. “What’s my trick?” “Pull a rabbit from a hat.” “We don’t have a rabbit.” “We have next door’s rabbit.” “We don’t have next door’s permission.” “Details.” Bill’s mouth became a line. “Fine, but if that rabbit looks at me, I’m leaving, and you can tell Jasper why his show became a documentary about cowardice.” “And what if the children ask questions?” “Children never ask questions.” Bill stared at her. “Fine,” she said. “Give them vague answers and a balloon.” “What balloon?” “Any balloon.” “Can you make balloon animals?” “I can make balloon victims.” He picked up a pink costume from the box. A silver star drooped from its chest. “Why does mine say ‘Disco Granny’?” “Because the wizard costume was twelve pounds extra.” “I’m not wearing this.” “You are if you want a piano.” “Molly, be serious. We’re robbing a children’s party.” She folded her arms. He sighed. “What’s the getaway signal?” “I’ll shout, ‘Jasper wants another go on the bouncy castle.’” “And if something goes wrong?” “You’ll shout, ‘The rabbit’s learned to drive.’” “That makes no sense.” “Exactly. Nobody will suspect it’s code.” Bill held the costume against himself and looked at the dark window. The sequins made him appear to be decomposing under disco lights. “One more thing,” he said. “What?” “Why does the invitation have your name on it?” Molly snatched it from his hand. Her expression changed three times, finally settling on the cautious cheer of someone discovering a fire in her own hat. “Well,” she said, “that simplifies entry.” “And the bit about ‘Auntie Molly’s surprise entertainment’?” She looked at the water pistol. He looked at the beans. “Fine. Jasper’s my nephew.” “So we’re invited?” “Technically.” “And the van?” “Sentimental.” “And the rabbit?” “Essential.” Bill held up the wig. “Couldn’t we just walk through the front door?” Molly folded the crayon plan with enormous care. “Bill,” she said, “where’s the fun in that?” He put on the wig. “Then I want the piano.”