Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ02GNEKCH76AYVBE0KSY0PK

Molly adjusted her night vision goggles and squinted at the suburban ranch house, which vomited crepe paper onto an otherwise respectable lawn. A cardboard sign by the mailbox read HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY TIMMY in menacing purple glitter. Inflatable dinosaurs guarded the flowerbeds. She clicked her stopwatch again and stared at her partner. "Sure the magician leaves at four?" Bill tightened his grip on the empty laundry bag marked SWAG. His hands trembled. "Positive. I posed as the allergen inspector. Rabbit stays in hat until three thirty, cake follows. That's our window." "Security?" "One clown. Unarmed. Two parents. Armed with cake knives, possibly." Molly nodded, clicking her pen against the stolen invitation they'd lifted from the mailbox three days prior. The envelope smelled like grocery store cake. "Presents are by the sliding glass door. I counted fourteen gift bags from the bushes. Theme is dinosaurs." "Fourteen bags," Bill whispered, his breath fogging the balaclava. "That's fourteen shots at a Nintendo Switch." "It's a six-year-old's birthday party, Bill. Expect picture books and a sweater." Bill pulled the balaclava over his face, missed the eye holes entirely, and walked straight into the mailbox with a clang. He reemerged rubbing his forehead, leaving green paint on the cold metal. "Remind me why we're stealing from children?" "Because the Hernández family is loaded. Timmy's godfather is the diamond guy. Registry lists a gold-plated piggy bank." Bill's eyes widened with manic greed, as if someone had explained compound interest to a dog. "Gold piggy bank. Just asking for it." "Exact. I go over the fence, disable the bounce house blower—diversion. You slip through the kitchen, grab the gifts, meet me at the car." "The getaway car is a Prius with a car seat." "Stealth, Bill. We're invisible." "What if they see us?" "Improvise. Act like we belong. Start making balloon animals." "I forgot balloons." "Then look sad. Hope they think you're the divorced uncle." Molly tossed him a grape juice box from her tactical vest. The straw was bent. "Drink this. Low blood sugar makes you chatty." "I still say we poison the stupid piñata." "We're thieves, not monsters. We leave the children their candy. Only take the goods." She pointed toward the bay window, where tiny voices shrieked the birthday anthem in a key unknown to science. "Cake is happening now. Move." They crept toward the fence. Bill boosted Molly up, his shoe sinking into decorative mulch. She straddled the wood, and a sprinkler hissed to life, soaking her cargo pants in a violent arc of chlorinated betrayal. "Abort?" "Never." Molly dripped forward, crouching behind a plastic triceratops and waited. "Get ready. In thirty seconds, I release the confetti cannon." "Where'd you get a confetti cannon?" "Same place I got these goggles. The internet." She grinned, adjusting her stolen goggles with the confidence of a professional. "Big leagues." "Right." Bill exhaled sharply, watching a toddler press its face against the glass. "Ocean's Eleven. But with juice boxes." "Ocean's Six," Molly corrected. "Because Timmy is six. Just keep up."