Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFF4XJD7156NSBK635TBXQR

They hunkered behind an overgrown hydrangea bush two houses down from the ranch house draped in neon Paw Patrol streamers, their getaway van a dented former ice cream truck parked half a block away, its peeling SPUMONI sign flickering so it only read SPUM. Bill squeezed into a thrifted T-Rex onesie that had shrunk three sizes in the wash, the foam tail snagging on a chipped garden gnome, his kid-sized face mask sliding down his nose to expose a stubbled gray jaw. Molly adjusted her too-tight princess tiara, her lockpick set tucked into a sparkly tutu fanny pack, and squinted at the unguarded present stack teeming with wrapped boxes by the back porch. The only thing standing between them and the loot was a clown juggling water balloons and a herd of sugar-fueled six-year-olds chasing each other around the sagging bounce house, a half-eaten cupcake rolling past the hydrangea’s roots. Molly hissed, “You trip that tail and we’re blending in as human piñatas.” Bill grunted, yanking the tail free, “Worth it for the Millennium Falcon Lego set.”