Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8X0ESYREE7CF84CM1WTC95

Molly spread the crayon drawing across the hood of their beat-up van and tapped it with her finger. "This is our target," she said. Bill leaned in, squinting. "Is that a rainbow?" "That's the driveway." "Why is it a rainbow?" "Because I borrowed a crayon from a kid, Bill. Focus. Now, the party starts at two. We go in at three, when everyone's hopped up on cake and nobody's watching the present table." "What's the present table?" "It's a table. With presents on it." Bill nodded slowly. "Right. And we're stealing those." "That is the entire plan I just described, yes." "From a seven-year-old's birthday party." "From twelve seven-year-olds' birthday parties, actually. It's a joint party. Twelve kids, one bouncy castle, one absolutely enormous pile of gifts." Molly tapped the drawing again. "This right here is gold, Bill." "That looks like a sun." "That's the pile of presents." Bill scratched his chin. "I feel like we should talk about whether this is a good idea." "Would a bad idea have aerial reconnaissance?" "You drew that from memory in a parking lot." "Strategic memory," Molly said. "Now, the parents will be distracted by the entertainment." "What's the entertainment?" "A magician named Bongo." "That's not a real name." "Bongo doesn't care what you think his name is, Bill. The point is, Bongo does a forty-five minute show. That's our window. We load the gifts into the van, we're gone before anyone notices." "What about the kids?" "What about them?" "They'll notice. Children are very observant. My nephew notices everything. Last week he told me my shoes were ugly." "Were they?" Bill paused. "Devastatingly. But that's beside the point." "We'll be in and out in eight minutes. Kids that age have the attention span of a goldfish with a concussion. They won't see a thing." "And if they do?" "We tell them we're elves." Bill stared at her. "We're both forty-three." "Seasoned elves." "Molly." "Large elves." "I'm not doing the elf thing." "Fine." Molly rolled up the drawing and tucked it under her arm. "We tell them we're from the present quality control department and we need to do a safety inspection." "That's somehow worse." "Do you have a better idea?" Bill thought about it for a long moment. A pigeon landed on the van's windshield and stared at them both with profound judgment before flying away. "No," Bill admitted. "Wonderful. Disguises are in the back. I got us matching polo shirts." "What color?" "Yellow." "Why yellow?" "Because it was on sale, Bill, what kind of question is that." Molly walked around to the driver's side and climbed in. "Now get in. We've got a birthday party to ruin." Bill looked at the van. He looked at the sky. He got in. "For the record," he said, "I think this is going to go badly." "Everything we do goes badly," Molly said cheerfully, starting the engine. "That's what makes us consistent."