Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ47RDXTY93WSYRQX30TY2Y

Molly leaned over the kitchen table, spreading out a hand-drawn map of the Henderson house with all the precision of a general planning a military campaign. The paper was stained with coffee rings and what might have been mustard, but the layout was clear: living room, dining room, backyard, and the treasure trove marked with an enthusiastic red X. "The presents will be stacked by the oak tree," Molly said. "Thirty-seven kids, so we're looking at fifty gifts minimum." Bill scratched his chin, leaving a smear of pizza sauce from his earlier dinner. He studied the map with the intensity of someone trying to decode ancient hieroglyphics, which was appropriate given his education level ended at the sixth grade. "What's the kid's name again?" "Timmy. He's turning seven. dinosaur theme." Molly pulled out a pair of binoculars from her jacket pocket and set them beside the map with a theatrical flourish. She had been planning this particular heist for three weeks, ever since she spotted the Hendersons unloading a bouncy castle from the back of a rental truck. Where there were bouncy castles, there were generous parents. Where there were generous parents, there were expensive presents waiting to be liberated. "Clowns make me uncomfortable," Bill muttered, shifting in his chair. He had been Molly's partner in crime for fifteen years, ever since they met in a holding cell after a botched shoplifting attempt at a department store. He was dependable, reasonably intelligent, and had a disturbing talent for picking locks, which made him invaluable despite his occasional protests. Molly sighed the sigh of someone who had long ago accepted the burden of being the smart one in the partnership. She reached into her bag and produced two party hats and a wrapped present. "We're guests. We're just leaving early." Bill picked up one of the party hats and examined it skeptically, turning it over in his hands like it might contain a hidden compartment. "This says Priscilla on it." "Priscilla couldn't make it. She's got the flu. Her mother sent apologies via Facebook." Molly circled the picnic table on the map with her red marker, adding emphasis to what she considered the most critical element of the entire operation. "Now, we take only the good stuff. No coloring books, no socks, no educational toys. We're looking for electronics and action figures." "We're stealing from children, Molly." "We're redistributing birthday wealth. Those kids have parents who'll buy them more toys by the weekend. We have rent due on Thursday." Bill seemed to accept this logic, nodding slowly as he studied the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. "What about the piñata?" "Grab whatever falls. But we move fast. Once the sugar kicks in, those kids become chaos monsters." Bill tucked the party hat into his jacket with the practiced ease of a man who had smuggled stranger things than paper crowns. "What time do we leave?" "Noon sharp. We blend in, we eat some cake, we sing Happy Birthday, and then we vanish." "Cake?" "Vegan. The Hendersons are vegan." "Why couldn't we rob a normal family?"