Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H3R6MFG7NACCB1PV2MDAD

Molly and Bill crouched behind a privet hedge shaped like an anxious swan, staring at the blazing suburban fortress across the street. Balloons bobbed over the gate. A banner reading HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, OLIVER drooped in the drizzle like a warning from fate itself. Through the windows came shrieks, whistles, and the muffled tyranny of a man dressed as a pirate leading a singalong. “Tell me again,” Bill whispered, tugging his wool cap lower, “why we’re robbing a house full of children.” “Because,” said Molly, consulting a hand-drawn floor plan on the back of a takeaway menu, “children are terrible at security and rich parents are sentimental fools. Look at that pile by the table. That’s not presents, Bill. That’s inventory.” “It’s gift-wrapped guilt, is what it is.” “Don’t go soft on me now.” “I’m not soft. I’m practical. There’s twenty tiny witnesses in there, all sticky, all loud, and one of them probably bites.” Molly peered over the hedge. “Then avoid the bitey one.” A clown emerged at the front door carrying a tray of orange squash. Bill recoiled. “I hate clowns. They’ve got the work ethic of criminals and the shoes of aristocrats.” “Focus,” said Molly. “Entry through the side gate, across the kitchen, into the dining room. Presents are stacked under the window. We bag them, out the back, over the fence, gone in ninety seconds.” “Ninety? Last week it took you two minutes to steal a ham.” “That was a heavily supervised ham.” Across the street, children roared with laughter. A paper hat floated from an upstairs window and landed in a puddle. Bill squinted. “What if there’s a dog?” “There’s always a dog.” “What kind?” “The disappointing kind. Small, furious, overconfident.” “I can’t outrun a terrier, Molly. They’re all teeth and nationalism.” She folded the menu and slipped it into her pocket. “Listen to me. At precisely three fifteen, the entertainer starts cake. Every child in that house will turn feral with anticipation. Parents will be taking photographs nobody wants. That is our moment.” “And if someone sees us?” “Smile warmly and carry a box. Nobody questions confidence and wrapping paper.” Bill considered this. “That’s actually upsettingly true.” The front room flashed with colored lights. A machine somewhere began pumping soap bubbles into the garden. Molly narrowed her eyes. “There. Side path. Clear.” “Before we do this,” said Bill, “I need to know what we’re taking. Toys? Electronics? One of those educational robots that teaches coding to children before they’ve mastered spoons?” “We take everything not nailed down and sort it later.” “What if one’s a chemistry set?” “Then congratulations, we diversify.” Bill sighed. “This feels like the sort of crime that ends with us being chased by a magician.” “Only if you dawdle.” They slipped through the gate. The garden was a battlefield of plastic swords, toppled juice cartons, and an inflatable castle wheezing in dignified defeat. Molly crossed low and fast. Bill followed, stepping on a squeaky dinosaur so loudly he froze in horror. From inside, a child screamed, “Do it again!” Bill exhaled shakily. “I nearly died.” “You nearly entertained.” At the back door, Molly produced a hairpin. “Thirty seconds.” “You said ninety for the whole job.” “I’m building suspense.” The lock clicked. Warm air rushed out smelling of pizza, sugar, and expensive central heating. They entered a kitchen littered with paper plates and half-eaten sausage rolls. Bill picked one up. “Can’t plan on an empty stomach.” “Put down the evidence.” In the dining room, the presents rose in a glorious heap of ribbons and greed. Bill’s eyes widened. “Good Lord. It’s like Father Christmas got mugged.” “Bags,” Molly hissed. They worked furiously, sweeping parcels into black sacks. A child’s voice sounded in the hall. “Why is my mum’s cake knife in the umbrella stand?” Bill went pale. “Time to go.” He hoisted a bulging sack. Something inside mooed electronically. Molly grabbed the last box. “Move.” They burst into the garden just as the back door banged open and the pirate entertainer shouted, “Who are you?” Bill vaulted the fence with surprising grace. “Present inspectors!” Molly scrambled after him, laughing as alarms of outrage rose behind them. “Did we get away with it?” Bill panted. She looked in the sack, pulled out a glittery unicorn backpack and a boxed telescope. “Bill,” she said, grinning, “we have absolutely ruined a six-year-old’s afternoon.”