Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA36XNZWQ6C80GKS24Y4PH

Night had crept into the cul-de-sac like a cat with a coupon. Molly balanced on the bumper, blueprint folded, glitter smudging her fingers. Bill crouched beside her, headlamp glaring like a judgmental moon. They could hear muffled laughter from the house two doors down, the high-pitched hum of sugar and tape and boosted parents. Party lights blinked through curtains, and a cone of lamplight pooled over plastic crowns and a sign that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY. The plan was ridiculous and delicious. They were thieves with standards: no one gets left without an explanation, and certainly not without a ribbon. Molly checked the time, tapping the face of a watch that looked borrowed. Bill sniffed the air as if he could taste cake and risk. This was not about money, he said. It was about the pile of presents, the impossible geometry of them, and the challenge of leaving the party. "Molly whispered, This is the easiest caper we've ever staged, Bill." "Bill hissed, Easiest until a piñata becomes a bodyguard." "No piñata, just backpacks and a suspiciously large stuffed dinosaur." "Which is probably the stash. Kids love dinosaurs. They bury things in dinosaur lairs." "We will not negotiate with plushies. What's the entry?" "Through the side gate. Small latch, paint flakes like ignorance." "I'll shimmy the fence. You charm the parents." "Charm the parents? I have the face for compliments not for karaoke about cupcakes." "Practice: 'That balloon coordinates with your parenting, very tasteful.'" "That's insulting. That's also my opener. Swap." "Fine. Once inside, grab presents and cake. Cake is priority." "Indications?" "Sticky fingerprints, frosting trails, moral evidence." "You're paranoid. What if the birthday child wakes?" "Then we become entertainers. Quick juggling routine, exit with applause." "Do you juggle?" "I can toss two balls and one regret." "We'll need disguises." "Clown nose?" "Too on the nose. No pun intended." "Makeup then. We have glitter." "This whole plan involves glitter? Any plan with glitter is a confessional." "Glitter multiplies, escapes, lives its own life. Ideal for diversion." "And the loot?" "Wrapped gifts, gift bags, that one suspicious board game shaped like a spaceship." "And the cash from secret piggy banks?" "Those are for later. For now, mass extraction, one room sweep, tactical ribbon cut." "Tactical ribbon cut?" "Use the butter knife. It's silent and ceremonial." "You come prepared with a butter knife?" "I come prepared with many things, including a spoon." "What is the spoon for?" "To taste-test cake authenticity." "Fine. Timetable." "Ten minutes after cake, when parents sing and someone calls for a photo." "But photos mean cameras." "Then we bring our own camera, pretend to be the party photographers." "Do we have a portfolio?" "No, but I have a mixtape." "This is not a mixtape job." "Nothing is a mixtape job until it's a mixtape job." "Okay, exit plan." "Blanket over a pram, roll through the driveway. Leave a single balloon as tribute." "To chaos. Also to the birthday child, sort of." "Do we at least leave a card?"