Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ954GV9W9QMMQEQC01NP5E0

Molly pressed her face against the window of the 2004 Honda Civic, her breath fogging the glass. Through the haze, she monitored the perimeter of the suburban backyard. To the untrained eye, it was a sun-drenched celebration featuring a petting zoo and a very tired-looking pony. To Molly, it was a fortress of nap-time tantrums and high-value cardboard boxes. The tactical situation is fluid, Molly whispered, tapping a finger against a map she had liberated from the back of a cereal box. Bill shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, the sequins on his borrowed magician’s cape catching the midday sun. I still think the pony is a narc, he said, popping a miniature marshmallow into his mouth. He hasn’t stopped staring at the car since we pulled up. The pony is a distraction, Bill, Molly snapped, turning to face him. Her tactical vest, which was actually a fishing jacket with several pockets stuffed with Silly String, jingled. Focus on the objective. The Great Gift Mountain is situated on a folding table near the sliding glass doors. If we hit it during the cake-cutting ceremony, we can extract the haul before the first slice of chocolate sponge hits the floor. Bill adjusted his top hat, which kept slipping over his eyebrows. What about the mothers? They’re like hawks, Molly. One whiff of an unauthorized adult near the Lego sets and they’ll descend. I saw one take down a yellow jacket with a single wet wipe. It was clinical. That’s why we use the smoke screens, Molly said, pointing to a box of glitter bombs. And the diversionary tactics. You go in as The Amazing Billini. You dazzle them with that trick where you make a nickel disappear into your ear. While they’re trying to figure out why your ear is bleeding, I slip through the hedge, bag the goods, and meet you at the extraction point by the sandbox. Is it true some of the boxes might contain socks? Bill asked, his voice trembling slightly. I didn't sign up for apparel, Molly. I’m in this for the hard plastic. The high-end action figures. The remote-controlled drones with questionable battery life. High risk, high reward, Molly reminded him. Now, check your gear. Do you have the juice box bribery kits? Bill patted his pockets. Apple and berry blend. Untraceable. Good, Molly said, checking her watch. The sun is at its zenith. The sugar rush is reaching its peak. Within ten minutes, the chaos will be absolute. It’s time to move. Bill gripped the door handle, a look of grim determination on his face. For the loot? For the loot, Molly echoed. They stepped out of the car, their sneakers squeaking on the pavement. The pony let out a long, low whinny. Molly ignored it. She knew a professional when she saw one, and that pony was definitely on the payroll. But nothing was going to stand between her and the limited-edition space playset currently sitting under a layer of sparkly wrapping paper. They moved toward the gate, two shadows in the afternoon light, ready to commit the most adorable felony of their careers.