Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ7226W3EW0QK9V04FKV186R

"Check the perimeter, Bill. I want eyes on the bounce house and the unicorn." "Already on it. The bounce house will collapse if one toddler jumps. The unicorn is staring at us. I think it's judging." Molly adjusted her scuba goggles and pointed a gloved finger toward the plastic fortification, checking the tactical nap-time dial on her watch. "Focus on the loot. How many gifts?" "Forty-two. Wrapped in paper that screams 'please do not open me' but practically begs for teeth." "What's the heavy hitter?" "The big box by the tree. Looks like a gaming console. Maybe a skateboard." "Skateboards are noisy. We take the console. Bill, what about the noise discipline?" "I've packed the bone-conduction earmuffs. We won't hear the screaming." Bill tapped his head, where a colander with antennas was perched, and adjusted the volume on a device that looked like a broken toaster. "Good. And the extraction?" "The dog carrier is ready. We fill it with presents, strap it to the back, and waddle away like we're on a successful adoption mission. No one suspects the puppy carrier." Bill hefted the carrier, wincing slightly as it dug into his shoulder blades. "Brilliant. The parents are currently in a fugue state over brownies and mortgage rates. Alert level?" "Green. The birthday child, Timmy, has the attention span of a gnat with caffeine. He won't notice a thing unless he needs the bathroom." Molly smoothed her camouflage vest, which was clearly just a green bathrobe tied with a rope belt. "That's the wildcard. If Timmy needs the bathroom, the parents move. We freeze. I'm not good at being decor; I always look like I'm having a seizure." "Then we move fast. We strike when the singing ends and everyone looks at the cake. Flaming candles. Eyes avert. That's our in." She glanced at the snack table, where a tray of finger sandwiches sat untouched, a beacon of chaos waiting to happen. "And if he blows out the candles and claps?" "Then we're already halfway to the minivan with a carrier full of Legos and a plush dinosaur." "I'm terrified of the dinosaur. It has too many eyes." Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out a plush, multi-ocular lizard, squeezing it until it let out a squeak that sounded suspiciously like a human whimper. "It's a three-eyed dinosaur. Three thousand on the black market. The eyes add value." "Fine. But if you drop the console, you're buying the new game. Check the grip on the diaper bag." "Bag is slung. Extra wipes, whistle, and a pocket dimension for electronics. I'll bring the baby powder to clear prints." He patted the bag affectionately, as if it were a pet that might bite. "Genius. Smells like innocence. Operation: Cake Walk." Bill pulled a crumpled map from his pocket, drawn on the back of a cupcake wrapper. "That implies we're slow. Operation: Silent Night." "Too Christmas. Just move. When the cake is lit, I count down. Five, four, three, two, one, present snatching." Molly raised a fist, signaling the final countdown to the approaching cake. "And the unicorn?" "Leave the unicorn. It's cursed. Stay low. Watch for the goldfish." Bill gave the unicorn a wide berth, crossing himself with a sticky finger. "I hate the goldfish. They know." He eyed the bowl with deep suspicion, as if the fish were plotting their undoing. "They know. Move."