Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ404GFVR3BP9YEHQCF91V6

Molly adjusted her binoculars, peering through the frosted window of the McMansion across the street. Inside, a dozen six-year-olds swarmed a princess-themed bounce house while a tower of wrapped boxes dominated the gift table near the back patio. The birthday girl wore a tiara that probably cost more than Bill's car. "We hit at cake time," she whispered. "Forty presents, easy money." Bill scratched his stubble, eyeing the gathering skeptically. "Twenty parents in there." "Caterers don't get questioned," Molly replied, producing two worn headshots from her jacket. Bill stared at the photos—Paul Rudd and a stock lunch lady—and began calculating how quickly he'd need to run when this fell apart. She outlined the plan: arrive with a suspiciously large cake, distract the children with a puppet show, stuff the presents into catering bins, and vanish before anyone noticed. Bill had questions about the puppet show, mainly whether Molly owned any puppets, but he'd learned long ago that momentum was Molly's true superpower. "You're insane," Bill said finally. "I'm prepared," she corrected him. By sundown, they'd either be forty presents richer or featured in a neighborhood watch group chat. Bill preferred not to think about which outcome was more likely.