Run: 2026-02-25-01KJBDDZF6P0F4081VHH632P02

Bill hid behind a hydrant. "The perimeter is secure. Three parents, one dog, and a cake that smells like sugar and betrayal." Molly peered through binoculars. "Betrayal is the least of our worries. Look at the pile, Bill. That's not just wrapping paper. That's a goldmine of plastic dinosaurs and glow-in-the-dark swords." "I'm thinking glow-in-the-dark swords," Bill said, tapping his chin. "High resale value on the black market. Kids trade them for candy. Candy is currency." "We're not robbing a bank, Bill. We're robbing a birthday party. The stakes are lower, the security is higher." "Higher security? It's a golden retriever named Buster." "Buster has a collar with a tracker. If he barks, the neighbors call the cops. If the cops come, we go to jail. If we go to jail, who steals the glow-in-the-dark swords?" Bill laughed. "Point taken. So, how do we get in? The window is locked. The door is guarded by a mother with a plate of punch." "We use the distraction." "The clown?" "No, the clown is too obvious. We use the piñata." "The piñata. You want to smash the piñata from the outside?" "I want to swap the piñata. We bring a remote-controlled drone disguised as a piñata. We fly it in. It explodes. Confusion. Chaos. We grab the loot while they're looking for the candy." "That's... actually brilliant. But what about the presents? They're under the tree." "We bag them. All of them. The Lego sets, the dolls, the video games." "Do we keep the Lego sets?" "We sell the Lego sets. We keep the video games for ourselves. I want to play the new one." "You're six years old, Molly." "I'm thirty, and I have a stress disorder. Now, do we have the bag?" "Right here." Bill pulled out a burlap sack. "It smells like onions." "Perfect. Onions mask the scent of the plastic." "You're a genius." "I'm a thief. There's a difference." "The lights are coming on inside." "Move. Buster is sniffing the fence." "Do I run or sneak?" "Run. Always run. If you get caught, tell them you're delivering a pizza." "I don't have a pizza." "Lie. It's what we do." Bill nodded. "For the swords." "For the swords." They scrambled over the fence as the back door opened. "Happy Birthday!" someone screamed. "Happy stealing!" Bill whispered. Molly kicked the door open. "Party's over, kids." "Mom!" a child cried. "Run!" Molly yelled. They sprinted into the night, the burlap sack heavy with stolen joy. "Did we get the glow-in-the-dark sword?" Bill asked. "Yes." "Sweet." "Don't get cocky. We still have to fence the Legos." "Worth it."