Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8VZW95JYE79JC3VC047W9R

"This party is the perfect target, Bill," said Molly, leaning over the crumpled blueprint on their kitchen table. "They're stuffing the whole place with presents for spoiled kids who won't even know half of what's missing." "I don't know, Molly," Bill replied, rubbing his jaw. "A children's party? With balloon animals and clowns? The security might be tighter than you think." "Security? At a kid's birthday? It's two parents and maybe a bored teenager blowing up balloons," Molly shot back. "The presents are just sitting there, wrapped and waiting. We grab them, toss them in the van, and we're done in ten minutes." "Yeah, but what about the kids?" Bill asked. "You know they scream if they think someone's taking their stuff. One meltdown and the whole neighborhood shows up." "Then we don't let them see us," Molly said. "We hit during the pinata game. Everyone's blindfolded and swinging sticks. We slip through the garage, pile the gifts, and vanish before anyone pulls the blindfold off." Bill frowned at the map. "The garage is connected to the house. What stops some parent from walking in for duct tape while we're elbow-deep in wrapping paper?" "Timing, Bill," Molly answered. "We go when the cake's cutting. Parents are too busy arguing over who gets the corner piece with extra frosting. No one's checking the garage then." "What if there's a dog?" Bill pressed. "Kids' parties always have some hyper mutt chasing tails. One bark and we're cooked." "We bring treats," Molly replied quickly. "Cheap hot dogs. Distract anything furry in five seconds flat. Works every time." "And what about the getaway?" Bill asked. "The van's parked two blocks away. Carrying thirty wrapped boxes through someone's front yard in broad daylight? Sounds like a bad comedy sketch." Molly smirked. "That's why we use the side gate. It's unlocked during parties. Parents expect kids to run in and out like it's a playground. We blend in, except we're not six and we're stealing instead of playing tag." Bill sighed and rubbed his eyes. "This feels wrong, Molly. Taking from children? Even spoiled ones? Feels like we're the bad guys in our own story." "We're redistributing wealth, Bill," Molly said with a grin. "Those kids have too much junk anyway. They'll survive one less plastic robot or glittery dollhouse." "Until one of them spots us and we end up on the evening news with a clown chasing us down the street," Bill muttered. "Stop worrying," Molly told him. "We've done banks and jewelry stores. A birthday party is child's play. Literally. We case the place tomorrow, see the layout, confirm the presents are stacked. If it looks good, we hit Sunday afternoon." Bill hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Fine. But if one kid starts crying, I'm out. No exceptions." "Deal," Molly agreed. "Now help me figure out the blindfold timing. That's our window, Bill. The moment they swing and miss, we swing and grab everything. By the time they unwrap the first present we stole last year, we'll already be counting the cash from this haul." Bill chuckled despite himself. "You really think this works, don't you?" "I know it does," Molly said, folding the blueprint. "Because no one ever suspects the two adults quietly stealing the presents. They think the worst crime in there is stealing extra cake." "Let's hope you're the only one right," Bill replied, reaching for his coffee.