Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF1ZKCQ1FJTSQ3DR24BYVD

Molly checked the address on her phone again and grinned. "This is it. Little Timmy's sixth birthday party. Three hundred dollars in gift cards, a brand new tablet, and fifteen envelopes from relatives who don't know what kids actually want." Bill adjusted his fake mustache, which kept sliding toward his left ear. "I still think we should go as clowns. Everyone trusts a clown." "Nobody trusts a clown, Bill. That's literally the plot of every horror movie." "Exactly! They don't expect the clown to rob them. It's perfect misdirection." Molly pulled out a crumpled diagram she'd drawn on a napkin. "Listen, I've been studying the layout. The presents go in the living room. Parents hover around the cake in the kitchen. The kids are in the backyard doing some kind of... what is that, piñata time?" Bill nodded seriously. "Crucial intelligence." "The window by the powder room is unlocked. I checked the Zillow photos. We slip in, grab the loot, slip out. Fifteen minutes, tops." "What about the clown nose?" Bill asked, holding up a bright red nose. "I feel like it completes the look." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "We are not going as clowns. We're going as... concerned relatives. You can be a weird uncle. I'll be the aunt who smells like peppermint and asks inappropriate questions." "I don't know how to ask inappropriate questions." "Just ask why they don't have a real job yet. Ask about their ex. Works every time." Bill scribbled notes on his arm. "Weapons?" "Charm and desperation. And this." Molly held up a small device. "Noise maker. If anyone asks, it's a whoopee cushion. Classic icebreaker." "I thought we weren't doing the clown thing." "We're not. Whoopee cushions are universal. Everyone laughs. Then we laugh. Then we leave with everything." A car pulled into the driveway. A woman emerged with two toddlers and a massive wrapped box. "That's our cue," Molly whispered. "Act normal." Bill straightened his tie, which was visibly inside out. "Do I look like a guy with a mortgage?" "You look like a guy who steals children's presents, which, to be fair, you are." They walked toward the house with the confidence of people who absolutely belonged there. The woman smiled at them. "Oh, you must be Timmy's Uncle What's-His-Name from Minnesota!" "That's me," Bill said, shaking her hand too enthusiastically. "I'm great-uncle something. From Minnesota." Molly patted the woman's shoulder. "And I'm his wife. We drove eighteen hours for this." "Eighteen hours," Bill repeated. "The car smells like beef jerky now." The woman laughed and ushered them inside, completely unaware that she had just invited professional thieves into her home to case the joint. Or at least, she would be unaware until about forty-five minutes later when she discovered that every present was gone and the only thing left was a business card that read "Molly & Bill: If You Can Read This, You Should Have Bought a Safe."