Run: 2026-05-10-01KR92CY1X4TT5V7C29FA6E0P4

Molly crouched behind the garden hedge and checked her watch. The backyard was a kaleidoscope of inflatable castles and frantic toddlers, all screaming in a frequency that rattled her teeth. Bill crouched beside her, struggling to adjust a felt fairy mask that kept sliding over his left eye. Did you secure the perimeter, Bill? Molly hissed, tapping the side of her headset. The slide is guarded by a six-year-old with a glitter-encrusted juice box, Bill whispered back, his voice thick with suppressed panic. He looks like a narc, Molly. A pint-sized, sticky-fingered narc. Ignore the toddler. Focus on the haul. Is the gift table still unattended? It is currently overseen by a clown who smells faintly of despair and cheap gin. He is staring at a balloon animal like it just insulted his mother. Perfect. The clown is the distraction. Why must we steal presents from literal infants, Molly? I feel like my soul is eroding. Can we not target a jeweler or perhaps a billionaire with a vault? Billionaires have laser grids and sharks, Bill. This party has a bowl of lukewarm punch and a bouncy castle. It is a victimless crime if you consider that these children have too many toys anyway. It is practically a community service. I am pretty sure stealing from a birthday party is a crime against humanity. My moral compass is spinning like a top. Your moral compass is taped to your wallet, so stow it. Do you have the grab bags? I have the sacks. They are pink with cartoon puppies on them. I feel ridiculous. The puppies keep the parents away. They assume we are eccentric caterers. Now, listen. When I give the signal, you create a diversion. Pop the bouncy castle. Pop it? Like, with a knife? That is a level of carnage I was not prepared for today. Use the safety scissors in your utility belt. Do it now. The castle will collapse in seconds, and there will be chaos. Are you sure about this? I am sure about the pile of designer boxes currently sitting behind the cake table. Those Legos are worth a fortune on the black market, Bill. Legos. We are risking prison for plastic bricks. We are risking prison for early retirement in the tropics. Move. Bill sighed, tucked his fairy wings under his vest, and crawled toward the castle. Molly watched as he popped the inflatable wall with the precision of a surgeon. A high-pitched screech erupted from the structure, followed by a tidal wave of wailing children. The clown jumped, dropping his balloon sword. Now, Bill! Go, go, go! Bill scrambled toward the table, shoveling boxed presents into the puppy bags. Molly sprinted from the hedge, grabbing a stack of gift cards and a particularly heavy-looking box. They ran for the fence, the sound of parental shouting rising behind them. Drop the extra teddy bears, Bill! They are dragging you down! I am keeping the bear! It is a high-quality plush! Leave the bear, you idiot! We are heading for the getaway tricycle!