Run: 2026-07-09-01KX4096Z1TM0GWZ4AB1ZR5P3T

“Children’s parties are a gold mine,” Molly whispered, peering through the hedge. “No alarms, no dogs worth respecting, and every valuable is wrapped in paper decorated with smiling dinosaurs.” Bill adjusted his balaclava. “That’s not a balaclava. That’s a black sock with eyeholes.” “It’s stealthwear.” “It says ‘Greg’s Athletic Foot’ across your forehead.” “Focus. The presents are stacked by the patio doors. We go in, fill the sack, vanish before anyone notices.” Bill looked over the fence. Balloons bobbed above a garden full of shrieking six-year-olds. A clown was making balloon animals beside a table of cupcakes. “There are approximately forty witnesses.” “Children are unreliable witnesses. Ask one what happened and they’ll tell you a pirate rode in on a dragon.” “That clown looks alert.” “That clown is wearing shoes the size of canoe paddles. He cannot pursue us effectively.” Bill squinted. “What exactly are we stealing?” “Presents.” “Yes, but what kind?” “Expensive ones.” “They’re for a six-year-old named Oliver.” “Modern children receive electronics, collectible toys, remote-control machinery. In my day, a birthday haul could finance a small coup.” “In your day, you stole a toaster from a convent.” “It was an excellent toaster.” A child screamed, “MUM, CHARLIE LICKED THE BOUNCY CASTLE!” Molly nodded approvingly. “See? Chaos. Our natural habitat.” Bill dragged the sack closer. “I still think we should rob grown-ups. Grown-ups have watches.” “Grown-ups have opinions and doorbell cameras.” “Children have parents.” “Parents are distracted by juice boxes, gluten questions, and preventing other people’s children from breaking their own children.” The patio door opened. A woman carrying a tray of sausage rolls stepped outside. Molly crouched. “There. The gifts are unattended.” “They’re three feet from the door.” “Three feet is nothing.” “It’s a significant three feet.” “Bill, you once stole a painting from a museum.” “It was a postcard from the gift shop.” “And nobody stopped you.” “The cashier did. Eventually.” Molly took a breath. “On my signal, you vault the fence, cross the lawn, grab the presents, and return.” “Why do I vault?” “You’re taller.” “I’m not taller.” “You’re wearing platform trainers.” “They’re orthopedic.” “Your knees are a liability.” “My knees are veterans.” A little girl in a princess dress wandered toward the hedge, holding a plastic sword. She stopped directly in front of them. “Are you hiding?” she asked. Bill froze. Molly smiled. “No.” “You are. I can see your faces.” “We’re gardeners.” “At night?” “Very dedicated gardeners.” The girl considered this. “Do you have a present for Oliver?” Bill glanced at Molly. Molly glanced at the sack. “Yes,” Molly said carefully. “A very large present.” The girl brightened. “Can I help?” “No,” Bill said. “Yes,” Molly said at the same time. Bill turned. “What?” “She’s an insider.” “She’s six.” “Exactly. Nobody suspects six.” The girl held out her hand. “I’m Poppy.” “Molly,” said Molly. “And this is Bill.” “Are you burglars?” Bill inhaled sharply. “We’re party logistics specialists,” Molly said. Poppy nodded as if that explained everything. “Oliver already has loads of presents. One is a dinosaur that poops slime.” “Excellent,” Molly said. “Where is it?” “On the present table.” “Of course it is.” Poppy pointed at the patio. “But you can’t take them until after pass-the-parcel.” “Why not?” “Because the presents are part of the party.” Bill folded his arms. “You see? Even the child understands the basic moral framework.” Poppy narrowed her eyes. “You can have the boring ones.” Molly leaned closer. “Which ones are boring?” “Clothes. Books. A puzzle with horses.” “Any electronics?” “There’s a robot dinosaur.” Bill sighed. “We’re stealing from a child, Molly.” “We are reallocating assets.” Poppy tugged Molly’s sleeve. “If you take the clothes, can I have the robot dinosaur?” Molly looked at Bill. Bill looked at the party, then at Poppy’s plastic sword. “Fine,” he said. “We take the clothes.” Molly blinked. “Fine?” “We’re criminals, not monsters.” Poppy smiled. “I’ll get you a bag.” As she skipped away, Molly stared after her. Bill said, “What?” “We’re stealing birthday clothes.” “Those little shirts are expensive.” “Are we really doing this?” Bill considered. “There might be socks.” Molly nodded solemnly. “Then we proceed.”