Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFFVCJ9317KY637V7ECV3CC

Crouched behind a scraggly hydrangea bush two lawns over from the birthday house, Bill’s cheap clown mask hung askew, its only intact eye hole stretched to fit his oversized beer goggles, which he’d insisted were “suburban stealth optics.” Molly plucked a thistle out of her jeans, the fanny pack slung across her chest crinkling with gallon-sized ziplock bags to haul their loot. A chorus of toddlers screamed as a T-Rex piñata spilled Skittles across the driveway, and Bill nudged her so hard she bit the inside of her cheek. The stack of wrapped presents by the front porch glinted under string lights, topped with a giant unicorn-themed box that made Bill lean forward, greedy. “The coast clears in 12 minutes, when the mom herds everyone inside to sing happy birthday and cut cake,” Bill hissed, yanking his mask up to squint at the unicorn box. “I called dibs on that big one first—my cousin’s kid has been begging for that exact Lego set. You sure our fake party entertainer badges won’t fall apart before we grab the whole haul?” Molly smacked his bicep, voice sharp enough to cut through a kid’s wail over a dropped lollipop. “I laminated those bad boys at Staples. And if we skip out on the platter of rice krispie treats by the door, I’m turning you in to the birthday mom myself. Move, before the cake comes out and we lose our window.”