Many Happy Returns—to Evidence

Nobody expected a funny superhero birthday party story to become an official security incident. Least of all Max, who had simply agreed to deliver a cake.

Of course, Max had a long history of turning simple errands into emergencies. He once caused a citywide blackout while changing a lightbulb. Another time, he accidentally captured three bank robbers while looking for a public restroom.

Today, however, would be different.

Today, Max had a plan.

Unfortunately, the plan involved a birthday party, an experimental security device, and several hundred balloons.

That combination should have required a government permit.

The Party Nobody Ordered

Agent Precision hated surprises.

He hated crooked picture frames, unalphabetized filing cabinets, and people who said “approximately” when they could provide an exact number.

Most of all, he hated birthdays.

“Birthdays are inefficient,” Precision had explained during the previous year’s celebration. “They interrupt productivity, encourage unnecessary emotional displays, and involve cake-cutting methods that violate basic geometry.”

Naturally, the agency decided to throw him a surprise party.

Dee Corate, the agency’s relentlessly cheerful administrator, had organized the event under the official title Mandatory Morale Synchronization Exercise.

She had ordered decorations, rented a karaoke machine, and hired a singing telegram performer named Barry Ballad.

She had even arranged an enormous birthday cake.

Unfortunately, the bakery had misunderstood her instructions.

Instead of decorating the cake with “Happy Birthday, Precision,” the baker had written:

DO NOT PUT HIS AGE ON THE CAKE.

Dee stared at the frosting.

“Well,” she said, “at least they followed the confidentiality policy.”

Max stood beside her, holding the delivery receipt.

“Should I tell him the number of candles?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if he asks?”

“Tell him his age is classified.”

“Is it?”

“No, Max. We just don’t want him calculating how much of his life we’ve wasted.”

Across the room, rookie agent Candace Candle was installing flameless birthday candles.

Nearby, Dee had arranged a mountain of wrapped presents beside an industrial automatic gift-wrapping machine. The machine came from the agency’s experimental logistics division.

Its warning label read:

WRAP-O-MATIC 3000: NOW 40% LESS LIKELY TO WRAP THE OPERATOR.

Max admired it.

“Can it wrap a bicycle?”

“Yes,” Dee replied.

“A refrigerator?”

“Probably.”

“A person?”

Dee turned slowly.

“Max, please don’t give it ideas.”

She handed him a laminated instruction card.

His assignment was remarkably simple.

Deliver the cake. Stand quietly beside the real heroes. Don’t touch the decorations. Don’t reveal Precision’s age.

And, most importantly, don’t cause an incident.

Max saluted with his free hand.

The cake tilted dangerously.

Dee caught it.

“Perhaps,” she suggested, “we should start with two hands on the cake.”

Emergency Exit, Enter Emergency

Max’s first problem appeared almost immediately.

The main entrance to the party room was blocked by a gigantic banner reading:

SURPRISE! YOU’VE BEEN AMBUSHED BY FRIENDSHIP!

The banner hung directly across the doorway.

Max studied the situation.

He could move the banner.

He could ask someone for assistance.

Or he could take the cake through the emergency exit.

Naturally, he chose the third option.

The service hallway was nearly empty, and the emergency door opened directly into the party room.

A sign warned:

EMERGENCY EXIT — DO NOT PROP OPEN.

Max wedged the door open with a spare cake box.

“Technically,” he reasoned, “this is a cake emergency.”

A man wearing a glittering purple tuxedo, enormous bow tie, and suspiciously cheerful smile appeared behind him.

“Greetings, fellow celebration enthusiast!” the stranger announced. “I’m the entertainment!”

Max looked him over.

“Are you the singing telegram?”

“Better! I’m the Magnificent Pop, Master of Balloons, Confetti, and Other Unnecessary Celebrations!”

The stranger flourished a bouquet of balloon animals.

One looked like a poodle.

Another looked like a machine gun.

Max squinted.

“That’s an unusual balloon.”

“It’s a dachshund.”

“With a trigger?”

“It’s a very angry dachshund.”

The man laughed nervously.

Max shrugged and held the door.

“Come on in. Party’s down the hall.”

“Wonderful! And where might I find the agency’s experimental technology demonstration room?”

Max pointed.

“Two doors down. But I wouldn’t go in there. They keep all the dangerous stuff.”

“How considerate of you to mention that.”

The stranger hurried inside, followed by two assistants pushing oversized equipment cases.

Max returned to his cake.

He did not notice the red security light blinking above the emergency door.

He also failed to notice the stranger quietly removing his fake mustache.

The Magnificent Pop was actually the notorious supervillain known as the Party Crasher.

His specialty was infiltrating high-security facilities under the cover of social gatherings.

Tonight’s target was the agency’s prototype universal access module, an experimental device capable of overriding electronic security locks throughout the agency’s training facilities.

In the wrong hands, it could compromise every secured room in the complex.

The Party Crasher intended to steal it and sell it to the highest bidder.

He had studied guard schedules, building blueprints, and security protocols.

He had planned everything.

What he hadn’t planned for was Max.

That would prove to be a serious oversight.

Badges, Bows, and Bad Decisions

Back in the party room, Dee was attempting to maintain order.

This was difficult because someone had placed thirty inflatable flamingos around Precision’s office chair.

“Who ordered these?” she demanded.

Max raised his hand.

“They came with the cake.”

“Why would flamingos come with a cake?”

“I didn’t question the bakery’s artistic direction.”

Dee sighed.

“Fine. Just put them somewhere out of the way.”

Meanwhile, Candace was collecting employee identification badges.

Dee had insisted everyone remove their lanyards before Precision arrived.

“No visible badges in the party photographs,” she explained. “This is supposed to look festive, not like an annual security audit.”

She pointed toward a collection tray near the gift table.

“Max, could you help Candace with the badges?”

“Absolutely!”

Max picked up the stack of security cards.

Unfortunately, he mistook the automatic gift wrapper’s input tray for the badge collection tray.

The machine beeped.

GIFT DETECTED.

Max frowned.

“Those aren’t gifts.”

PROCESSING GIFT.

“Actually, they’re very important security badges.”

ADDING FESTIVE PRESENTATION.

The machine swallowed the entire stack.

Seconds later, beautifully wrapped little boxes began sliding onto the conveyor belt.

Each carried a silver bow.

Max stared.

“Well, that’s adorable.”

Candace turned around.

“Max? Where are the badges?”

He proudly pointed.

“I made them more festive.”

Candace watched another wrapped badge slide into the collection bin.

“YOU WRAPPED OUR SECURITY BADGES?”

“Only the important ones.”

“THEY’RE ALL IMPORTANT!”

“Then everybody got a really nice present.”

Candace lunged for the machine’s emergency stop button.

Unfortunately, someone had decorated it with a giant red bow.

She couldn’t find it.

The wrapper cheerfully announced:

HOLIDAY MODE ACTIVATED. BULK WRAPPING AVAILABLE.

From somewhere near the demonstration corridor came the muffled sound of metal striking metal.

Candace froze.

“Did you hear that?”

Max nodded.

“Probably the flamingos.”

“Flamingos don’t sound like someone breaking into a secure laboratory!”

“These are inflatable. They might be different.”

Candace hurried toward the restricted hallway.

Unfortunately, the access scanner refused her entry.

Her badge was inside a beautifully wrapped box somewhere beneath the gift table.

Behind the secured demonstration room’s door, the Party Crasher was already working.

His two henchmen had disabled the prototype cabinet’s lock using equipment concealed inside a portable confetti cannon.

The access module sat inside a protective case.

The Party Crasher grinned.

“At last! The key to every locked door in the agency!”

One henchman checked his watch.

“Boss, should we leave now?”

“Not yet. We wait until the party reaches maximum distraction.”

A burst of applause erupted from the next room.

The Party Crasher smiled.

“Excellent. I believe the festivities are beginning.”

The Birthday Boy Has Entered the Danger Zone

Agent Precision arrived at exactly 3:00 p.m.

He was expecting a routine briefing on quarterly operational efficiency.

Instead, thirty-seven agency employees leaped from behind furniture.

“SURPRISE!”

Precision stopped.

His left eyebrow rose approximately three millimeters.

He surveyed the balloons, cake, decorations, and inflatable flamingos.

Then he checked his watch.

“Who authorized this?”

Dee stepped forward.

“Happy birthday!”

“My birthday is not an operational emergency.”

“We know!”

“Then why are there flamingos in my chair?”

“They’re festive!”

“They’re blocking an emergency evacuation route.”

Dee’s smile weakened.

“Precision, for once in your life, could you just enjoy something?”

Precision examined the cake.

“Why does it say ‘Do not put his age on the cake’?”

Max stepped forward.

“That’s because we promised not to reveal that you’re—”

“MAX!” shouted Dee.

Max stopped.

“—an extremely valuable member of the agency.”

Precision narrowed his eyes.

“Acceptable recovery.”

Candace rushed back into the room.

“We have a security problem!”

Max nodded.

“I already told Dee about the flamingos.”

“No! Someone is inside the restricted demonstration wing!”

Precision instantly straightened.

“Why wasn’t the alarm raised?”

Candace pointed toward the gift table.

“Because our security badges are currently wrapped in birthday paper!”

Precision stared at Max.

Max offered a hopeful smile.

“They have matching bows.”

Before Precision could respond, Barry Ballad, the singing telegram performer, burst through the door.

He wore a sparkling gold jacket and carried a portable microphone.

“GOOD AFTERNOON, BIRTHDAY LEGEND!”

Music exploded from his speaker.

He began singing an aggressively cheerful version of “Happy Birthday.”

Precision closed his eyes.

“This,” he whispered, “is why I oppose celebrations.”

Dee hurried toward the cake.

“Everyone calm down! We can fix the security issue after the candles!”

Candace protested.

“The candles need to be flameless!”

“They are!” Dee insisted.

Unfortunately, Max had discovered a small packet of decorative birthday sparklers in the cake box.

He had already replaced the flameless candle with a magnificent, foot-long fountain candle.

“Look!” he announced. “This one’s extra festive!”

Candace’s eyes widened.

“MAX, DON’T LIGHT THAT!”

Too late.

The sparkler erupted in a brilliant shower of golden sparks.

Everyone applauded.

For approximately two seconds, the party was beautiful.

Then the sparks heated the fire sprinkler head directly above the cake.

There was a loud metallic pop.

And the ceiling opened fire.

The Cake Is Now a Water Feature

Water blasted directly onto the birthday table.

The cake collapsed.

The flamingos floated.

The decorations sagged.

Barry Ballad continued singing.

Dee screamed.

Candace grabbed a fire extinguisher.

Precision checked his watch.

“Three minutes and forty-six seconds,” he announced. “A new record for catastrophic morale activities.”

Max tried to rescue the cake.

Unfortunately, the frosting had become a fast-moving river of blue and white goo.

“Don’t worry!” Max shouted. “I think it’s still edible!”

A large chunk slid off the table.

Precision watched it land inside his briefcase.

“I disagree.”

Meanwhile, the Party Crasher heard the sprinkler alarm.

His eyes lit up.

“Beautiful! The perfect distraction!”

He grabbed the stolen prototype and shoved it into his equipment case.

“Pack everything!” he ordered his henchmen. “We’re leaving!”

The criminals rushed toward the loading bay.

Unfortunately for them, the route passed directly beside the agency’s gift-wrapping station.

The Wrap-O-Matic 3000 was still running.

It had also switched into industrial bulk-wrapping mode.

And Max, desperately trying to save the birthday decorations, had just wandered into the loading bay.

He was carrying a bundle of balloons, a ruined party banner, and what remained of a plastic flamingo.

“Stay here,” he told the flamingo.

It floated away.

Max sighed.

“Nobody listens to me.”

Then he noticed the agency’s new cargo-lifting drone.

The enormous machine hung from an overhead charging station.

It was designed to move heavy equipment between storage areas and the main security checkpoint.

Max stared at the drone.

Then at the balloons.

Then back at the drone.

A brilliant idea occurred to him.

This was almost always a warning sign.

“If I attach the balloons to the drone,” he reasoned, “they won’t float away!”

He tied the decorative strings around its cargo hook.

Unfortunately, while trying to secure the arrangement, he pressed the drone’s activation panel.

AUTOMATED CARGO TRANSFER INITIATED.

Max jumped.

“Oh! You’re awake!”

RETURNING TO SECURITY CHECKPOINT.

“Wait! No! I just wanted you to hold the balloons!”

The drone’s engines roared.

Max grabbed a dangling cargo sling, trying to untangle the strings before the machine lifted off.

At that exact moment, the Party Crasher burst into the loading bay.

“OUT OF MY WAY!”

Max spun around.

The loose lifting hook swung toward the villain.

CLINK!

It snapped neatly onto a heavy metal ring on the Party Crasher’s hidden stunt harness.

The villain froze.

“What was that?”

Max looked down.

“Oh, sorry. I think I hooked something to your costume.”

The drone announced:

CARGO SECURED. LIFTING.

The Party Crasher looked upward.

“WHAT CARGO?”

The drone answered by lifting him six feet off the floor.

Then ten.

Then fifteen.

The Party Crasher screamed.

Max waved helplessly.

“YOU MIGHT WANT TO HOLD ON!”

“I AM HOLDING ON!”

“GOOD! BECAUSE I DON’T THINK IT HAS A SEAT BELT!”

The drone accelerated toward the security checkpoint with the villain dangling beneath it like the world’s angriest birthday decoration.

Behind him trailed forty-eight colorful balloons.

One of them read:

YOU’RE SPECIAL!

The Party Crasher did not feel special.

He felt airborne.

The Great Gift-Wrapped Getaway

The Party Crasher’s henchmen watched their employer fly away.

“Should we help him?” asked the first.

The second considered the situation.

“He’s technically escaping.”

They shrugged and continued pushing their stolen equipment toward the service exit.

Unfortunately, they had to pass the Wrap-O-Matic 3000.

Its sensors detected their rolling equipment cart.

LARGE GIFT DETECTED.

The first henchman stopped.

“Did that machine just call us a gift?”

INITIATING INDUSTRIAL WRAPPING SEQUENCE.

The conveyor belts activated.

A mechanical arm swung down.

“GET BACK!” shouted the second henchman.

Too late.

The machine launched a cloud of decorative wrapping paper, padded packing film, and industrial ribbon.

The first henchman became entangled around the waist.

The second tried to pull him free.

This caused the machine to identify both men as a single oversized object.

COMBINING GIFTS FOR EFFICIENT PRESENTATION.

“NO! DON’T COMBINE US!”

ADDING RIBBON.

A giant red bow descended.

Seconds later, both criminals stood immobilized against their equipment cart, wrapped in enough festive padding to ship a small automobile.

Their heads stuck out of the paper.

The first henchman blinked.

“Are we gift-wrapped?”

The second sighed.

“Yes.”

“Should we scream for help?”

A mechanical arm attached a large gift tag.

TO: SECURITY DEPARTMENT

FROM: THE WRAP-O-MATIC 3000

“Probably.”

Max hurried toward the machine.

“Oh, wow! It really can wrap people!”

He examined the criminals.

“Are you two comfortable?”

“NO!”

“Good. Because you’re not supposed to be.”

Candace arrived seconds later with three security officers.

She stared at the criminals.

Then at the gigantic red bow.

Then at Max.

“Did you do this?”

“Technically, the machine did it.”

“Why?”

“I think it was feeling festive.”

Candace looked toward the overhead security cameras.

Outside the loading bay, the Party Crasher flew past a window.

He was still screaming.

A cluster of balloons bobbed behind him.

Candace pointed.

“AND WHAT IS THAT?”

Max looked up.

“Oh! That’s the balloon guy!”

“WHY IS THE BALLOON GUY FLYING?”

“I think he got promoted.”

Many Happy Returns—to Evidence

At the main security checkpoint, the drone descended toward its automated landing platform.

Six heavily armed security officers stared upward.

Suspended beneath the drone was the Party Crasher.

His cape fluttered.

His balloons bounced.

His fake mustache had somehow reattached itself to his forehead.

“HELP!” he shouted.

The drone announced:

CARGO DELIVERY COMPLETE.

It lowered him directly in front of the security officers.

The Party Crasher struggled against his harness.

“UNHOOK ME!”

One guard looked at the balloons.

Another examined the villain’s glittering costume.

The security captain approached.

“Sir, are you the entertainment?”

“NO!”

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

“IT WAS A DISGUISE!”

The captain nodded.

“That sounds suspicious.”

He reached for his handcuffs.

Unfortunately, the Party Crasher had one last trick.

During the drone’s ascent, he had managed to pull the stolen prototype from his equipment case.

Now, with the officers approaching, he hurled it toward an open service window.

“If I can’t have it, nobody can!”

The device sailed through the air.

It bounced off a hanging birthday banner.

Ricocheted against a ceiling-mounted speaker.

Struck the edge of the cake cart.

And dropped directly toward the pile of unopened birthday presents.

Everyone watched in horror.

The prototype was worth millions.

It contained sensitive technology.

And it was about to land on a table covered in waterlogged wrapping paper.

At that exact moment, Max stumbled backward into the gift table.

A large present rocked on its base.

Its loose lid popped open.

PLOP.

The prototype fell directly inside.

The lid dropped shut.

Silence.

Max stared at the present.

Then at the ceiling.

Then at Precision.

“Uh… happy birthday?”

Precision approached the box.

Carefully, he removed the ribbon and opened the lid.

Inside sat the stolen access module.

It rested safely against the protective foam surrounding Precision’s actual birthday gift: an expensive set of precision-calibrated measuring instruments.

The prototype was completely undamaged.

Precision examined it.

Then he looked at Max.

“You recovered the stolen module.”

“Apparently.”

“You neutralized the Party Crasher.”

“Well, the drone did most of that.”

“And you captured his accomplices.”

“That was really the gift wrapper.”

Precision studied him.

“Max, you successfully stopped a coordinated infiltration, recovered experimental technology, and apprehended three criminals.”

Max brightened.

“So… does that mean I’m a hero?”

Precision took a deep breath.

“Against every known law of probability, yes.”

Dee clasped her hands together.

“Oh, this is wonderful! We should celebrate!”

Precision turned toward her.

“Absolutely not.”

From the hallway came a familiar voice.

“AND MAAAAAANY MOOOOORE!”

Barry Ballad entered, still singing.

He was soaked.

His gold jacket had lost most of its glitter.

His microphone was making a high-pitched buzzing sound.

But he refused to stop.

Dee stared at him.

“Barry, why are you still singing?”

“The contract specifies a complete birthday performance,” he explained. “And I am a professional.”

Precision rubbed his temples.

“Someone arrest the singer.”

Candace checked her clipboard.

“Unfortunately, sir, persistent singing is not a criminal offense.”

“It should be.”

Max looked at the ruined cake.

“Does anyone still want a slice?”

A piece of soggy frosting slid off the table.

Nobody answered.

The Incident Report

By the following morning, the agency’s security division had completed its preliminary report.

The official findings were unusual.

Incident: Unauthorized infiltration and attempted theft of experimental security technology.

Suspect: The Party Crasher.

Accomplices: Two individuals recovered from an industrial gift-wrapping machine.

Stolen Property: One prototype access module, recovered undamaged.

Method of Apprehension: Automated cargo drone, industrial packaging equipment, and one highly unpredictable civilian.

Property Damage: Extensive.

Birthday Cake: Total loss.

Agent Precision’s Emotional Condition: Classified.

The final paragraph contained a recommendation.

Future birthday celebrations should be conducted off-site, without machinery, open flames, experimental technology, or Max.

Precision personally approved the recommendation.

Max, however, received a certificate of appreciation.

It read:

FOR OUTSTANDING SERVICE IN THE FIELD OF UNCONVENTIONAL HEROISM.

Beneath that, someone had added:

Please do not attempt to repeat this achievement.

Max proudly hung the certificate in his apartment.

Unfortunately, he used the wrong wall anchor.

The frame fell.

It knocked over a lamp.

The lamp landed on his television remote.

The television switched itself on.

And there, on the evening news, was a report about the capture of the Party Crasher.

The news anchor smiled.

“In a bizarre sequence of events, agency officials credit an unidentified civilian with accidentally preventing one of the largest security breaches in agency history.”

Max grinned.

“Hey! That’s me!”

Then the screen showed security footage of the villain dangling beneath the balloon-covered drone.

Max’s smile faded.

“Oh, boy.”

He glanced at the certificate.

Then back at the television.

“Maybe next year I’ll just send a card.”

And somewhere across town, Agent Precision experienced his first genuine moment of birthday happiness.

Not because of the presents.

Not because of the cake.

Not even because the agency had defeated a dangerous supervillain.

But because, for the first time all day, Max was somebody else’s problem.

THE END

The Misfire will return. Unfortunately, so will Max’s decision-making skills.