Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAZF15KC6B2FZJG75299C3

Molly flattened herself against the fence, a stretchy mask pulled low over her eyes, and squinted at the backyard. Balloons bobbed like deflated UFOs, a clown in a red nose balanced a stack of cupcakes on his head, and a toddler in sparkles was currently licking a birthday cake off her sneaker. Bill, crammed behind her, fumbled with a lockpick that looked like a toothpick, his elbow digging into her ribs. “Y’think the presents’re in that folding table?” he said, nodding. A larva of a caterpillar crawled up his wrist, and he flinched, nearly dropping it. Molly snorted. “‘Think’? Bill, that’s where the *good* loot is. The cheap stuff’s in the pinata. Clowns never check the table *that* close.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “Stay behind the swing set. When I pop that green balloon—*that* one, with the rainbow dots—you hit the table lock. Easy.” Bill glanced at the toddler, who was now gumming a piece of cake frosting and eyeing his hat. “What if she starts cryin’? Kids got bad radar for *thievery*.” Molly rolled her eyes, reaching into her backpack for a lollipop. “Cryin’? She’s too busy thinkin’ her cake is a *carousel*. Hand me that decoy.” She tossed him a rubber chicken; he caught it with a yelp. “Tie it to the balloon. Distract the clowns. Then grab the biggest bow. The one with the bow. Got it?” He nodded, staring at the rubber chicken. “Got it. Just… try not to let the cake kid sit on my foot?” Molly grinned, already inching toward the bushes. “I’ll save you a present. Maybe a *barbie* with one leg.” They slunk out, the balloon rising, the clowns squawking about a “mystery fowl.” The toddler noticed Bill and pointed, yelling, “BIRDIE!” Bill stumbled, caught himself, and kept going. Molly laughed, low, as the swing set creaked behind them. Some heists were just luck. Most were chaos. This one was *delicious*.