Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAV4SES882TQVB7W1RCYKK

The backyard hummed with the high, tinny shriek of a pinata being swung. Molly, propped against a gnarled rosebush, adjusted the brim of her dark hood. Bill, crouched beside her, kept pawing at his cuffs like he was trying to stuff a hand into a too-small glove. “Relax,” Molly said, nodding at the window.透过窗帘缝隙，她能看见十几个孩子围着一张摆满歪歪扭扭纸杯蛋糕的桌子，桌上堆着包装鲜艳的礼物，像被打翻的彩虹糖豆。“They’re too busy screaming into a piñata shaped like a unicorn to notice we’re here.” Bill’s voice came out more croaky than he’d meant. “A *unicorn*? Kids today have no taste. I once stole a porcelain rooster with a monocle—classy.” “Classy’s not in the budget, Bill. Last week, the water fell off again. Remember? *The water*, which we’ve been paying for since 2019.” She flicked a pebble at him. “Now, listen up. The party starts at 3:15. They’ll do the piñata at 3:20, then cake at 3:45. Best time to grab presents is when the door’s open for the ice cream truck. The parents’ll be clustered by the grill, *yammering* about… about *soccer practice* or whatever. We slip in, grab the big boxes—this year’s loot’s mostly Legos and a Barbie dreamhouse. Balloons in the corner? Pop one. Kids’ll lose their minds chasing it. We’ve got a duffel in the trash can by the fence—” “Wait,” Bill said, leaning in. “What if a kid follows us? What if they *see* us? I’ve got a *record* for loitering by playgrounds. The cops still call me ‘Unicorn Guy’ at the precinct.” Molly snorted. “They’ll be too busy crying over their lost balloon to care. Besides—” She patted the duffel in the trash, now visible through a hole. “That’s not even *our* duffel. It’s Mr. Jenkins from down the street, who’s *definitely* not leaving his car unlocked. We just borrow it for the *vibe*.” Bill stared. “You stole a car’s duffel. For the vibe.” “Vibes pay water bills, Bill. Vibes stopped the radiator from clanking last month.” He sighed, but a tiny smile tugged at his mouth. “Fine. The dreamhouse—how we gonna carry it? The box is *huge*. I’m gonna look like a toddler with a present.” Molly grinned. “You’re a toddler with a present. Problem solved. We grab two boxes—one for the dreamhouse, one for the Legos. Zip-tie ‘em to the fence. I’ll distract the ice cream truck driver with a high-five; you yank the gate. Then we’re out. And hey—” She nudged his shoulder. “If we get caught, we’ll blame it on the unicorn piñata. Kids *love* hexing adults.” Bill stood, brushing dirt off his knees. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” “*Professional* idiot. Now c’mon. The ice cream truck’s here. Perfect cover.” He followed her to the fence, eyeing the trash can. “You sure Jenkins won’t mind?” “Jenkins hasn’t looked outside since 2017. He thinks the mailman’s a seagull. We’re fine.” Molly popped the trash bag, grabbing the duffel. Bill adjusted his hood. The piñata shattered. A chorus of shriek-cries erupted. “On three,” Molly said. “One—” “Two—” “Freeze!” A voice cut through the chaos. Both thieves froze. Turning, they saw a small girl, maybe five, standing in the open sliding door. She pointed at Bill’s duffel. “Your *hat* is too big,” she said. Bill blinked. “Uh. Thanks, kid?” The girl nodded, dead serious. “Maybe *wear a smaller one* next time.” She slammed the door. Molly stared at Bill, then burst out laughing. He stared back, then sighed, but he was smiling too. “Next time,” he said, “we steal the piñata. *It’s* got taste.” Molly pulled the duffel over her shoulder. The girl’s shriek-cries rose again. “Next time, we steal *the piñata*,” she agreed. They ducked out the fence, the duffel bouncing between them. Somewhere, a balloon popped. Somewhere, a kid yelled, “THEY STOLE THE UNICORN!” “C’mon,” Molly said, grinning. “We’re making the news. ‘Thieves Outsmarted by Toddler.’” Bill grinned back. “Best headline yet.” They melted into the afternoon, the duffel heavy with colorful loot. And somewhere, an ice cream truck driver gave Molly a high-five. Vibes, indeed.