Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08C6NWNRVTB8DN108S0759

Molly crouched behind the bakery dumpster, unfolding the party flyer like it was a treasure map and not a crayon explosion with glitter on it. Across the alley, Bill was trying to look sinister while chewing a cheese sandwich. “You’re eating,” Molly said. “I’m sustaining,” Bill replied. “It’s tactical.” “It’s mayo.” “Also tactical.” Molly squinted at the flyer. “We go in at three. The party’s in full swing, which means the adults are distracted by cake logistics and the children are too sugar-hyped to count gifts.” Bill swallowed. “You say that like children don’t have eyes everywhere.” “They do. Tiny ones. But they’re usually busy sticky-fingering one another.” Bill leaned over the paper. “What’s the venue?” “Number twelve, Bramble Crescent. The host’s name is Mrs. Pruitt.” He winced. “That sounds like someone who alphabetizes snacks.” “Exactly. No one with that much organization expects a professional intrusion.” Bill pulled a face. “We’re not professional.” Molly put a hand to her chest, offended. “Bill, please. We have matching gloves and a reusable bag.” “We have one glove each.” “Matching in spirit.” He took another bite. “What’s the angle?” “We enter as entertainers.” He nearly choked. “Entertainers?” “Yes. You said you had a skill.” “I can make a balloon dog.” “A balloon dog is not a skill.” “It is if the dog has personality.” Molly looked him up and down. “You’re going to wear the clown nose, aren’t you?” “I’m not wearing the clown nose.” “You brought the clown nose.” “I brought it for morale.” She tucked the flyer into her coat. “Fine. We get inside, distract the grown-ups, and locate the gifts before the inevitable pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey frenzy.” Bill frowned. “What if they have a magician?” Molly paused. “Then we improvise.” “With what?” “With confidence.” He snorted. “Confidence is not a tool.” “It’s the only tool this operation respects.” Bill wiped sandwich crumbs from his sleeve. “And what exactly are we stealing? Just the presents?” “All of them.” “All of them?” “That’s what ‘all’ means.” “But there will be a lot.” “Yes.” “Some of them may be enormous.” “Yes.” “Some may be shaped like a bicycle.” Molly gave him a long look. “Bill, if there is a bicycle wrapped in cartoon race cars, I am personally carrying it out.” He brightened. “I do like a challenge.” At the end of the alley, a siren wailed and faded, and somewhere in the street a bus sighed to a stop. Molly peered around the corner at the quiet row houses, each one innocent and brightly painted, each one apparently full of cake and weakness. “Remember,” she said, “we are not monsters.” Bill stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “Speak for yourself.” “We are simply redistributing goods from a heavily supervised environment to a more flexible one.” He chewed thoughtfully. “That sounds like stealing with good posture.” “It’s a business model.” “And when we get caught?” Molly smiled, sharp and cheerful. “We won’t get caught.” Bill raised a brow. “You said that last time.” “We got away.” “We got away because the retriever chased us into a fountain.” “Details.” He sighed and adjusted the clown nose in his pocket. “If I do this, I want it on record that I protested.” “Duly noted,” Molly said. “Now straighten your tie. No one trusts a thief with a crooked tie.” Bill glanced down at his shirt. “No one trusts a thief with a tie at all.” “Exactly. That’s why we’ll be unforgettable.” She started toward Bramble Crescent, walking with the airy purpose of someone late to a recital, not a robbery. Bill followed, muttering to himself and tugging at the balloon animal tucked under his arm like a very suspicious bouquet. Halfway down the street, Molly stopped and looked back. “Oh, and Bill?” “Yeah?” “If there’s a magician, try not to volunteer.” He frowned. “Why would I?” “Because you once got hypnotized by a shop mannequin.” “That mannequin was persuasive.” Molly shook her head, grinning. “Come on, then. Let’s go rob some children with class.”