Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ36174JGR3D50HPD647DTX

Molly and Bill sat in a dented hatchback across the street from a house where a birthday party had turned the front lawn into a graveyard of broken balloons. The backyard was worse. A bouncy castle shaped like a pirate ship listed to port, its mast deflated, and a trestle table sagged under the weight of presents wrapped in paper featuring cartoon dinosaurs and unicorns. Molly had researched this job by glancing at a Facebook event page once and then napping. Bill had done the actual stakeout, learning only that the neighbour had a cat that liked to sit on the fence and stare. Bill wiped his forehead. The fake mustache was starting to curl. "This is a terrible idea." "It's a great idea," Molly said without turning. "Children have the attention spans of goldfish. We'll be in and out before they remember we exist." "As pirates?" "Exactly." She reached into the back seat and held up a striped shirt and an eye patch. "The real Captain Flip is tied to a lamppost two streets away. I used his own anchor rope. He was very cooperative once I explained the hook. You'll be the first mate." Bill took the costume. It smelled of vinegar and regret. "What about the parrot?" Molly handed him a stuffed parrot with one button eye that wobbled. "Put it on your shoulder." "What's the plan?" Bill asked, strapping the parrot on. It fell off immediately. "You distract the children with balloon animals. I'll swap the presents." "I can't make balloon animals." "Make a balloon snake," Molly said. "It's just a long tube. Kids love tubes." "Kids love tubes," Bill repeated, but the conviction was absent. The parrot had landed on the gear stick. Molly opened the car door. The hinges groaned. She stepped out onto the curb, feeling the heat of the day on her neck. Bill followed reluctantly. They got out. The air was thick with the smell of cake and screaming and a trampled juice box. A mother stood at the grill, waving a spatula and a wine glass. She beamed. "Are you the pirates?" Molly tipped her hat. "Aye." "Good," the mother said. "My Kevin wants to be keelhauled." Molly moved toward the present table. It was unguarded, a glittering mountain of loot. Molly dropped her decoy bag and started filling it with gift bags. She got three before a small hand seized her wrist. She looked down. A girl with a juice mustache and sharp eyes stared up. "Are you stealing?" Molly froze. "No," she said. "I'm relocating them. The piñata is a well-known thief." The girl squinted. "You're a bad liar." The girl laughed. "I like your mustache." "It isn't mine." Molly sighed. She put the bag down. The girl took her hand. "Come on. We need a sword for the piñata." Molly let herself be led away. Behind her, a series of thuds and curses announced that Bill had walked into the trampoline. The parrot was gone. A child was running with it. Bill was chasing the child, his mustache dangling from one ear. Another child swung a stick at Bill's shins. The mother looked up from the grill. "Are they always like this?" Molly, now holding hands with the girl, glanced back. "Only on Tuesdays." The mother nodded. Molly looked at the present table one last time. It was undisturbed, a monument to her failure. The unicorn piñata stared at her with its one remaining eye, judgmental. The presents remained unsnolen. She sighed. It was just another Tuesday in the life of a mediocre thief.