Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40CPFXQ2JGYSS3TZ7HDVVT

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through the garden gate at a riot of balloons, streamers, and sugar-fueled children wearing paper crowns. “Tell me again why we’re robbing a birthday party.” “Because, Bill, the presents are all in one place, nobody’s guarding them, and the witnesses are too young to describe our faces without crayons.” “That feels cruel.” “It’s not cruel. It’s efficient.” “There’s a bouncy castle.” “Yes.” “And a magician.” “Also yes.” “Magicians are basically security consultants with capes.” “The magician is making balloon animals, Bill.” “That’s how they get you. First it’s a sausage dog, then your watch is gone.” Molly unfolded a hand-drawn map from her coat. It was covered in arrows, cake stains, and the words PRESENT MOUNTAIN written in red pencil. “Observe. The gift table is by the patio doors. At three fifteen, the children play Pass the Parcel. At three seventeen, the parents become distracted by arguments about whether every child deserves a prize. We enter through the kitchen window.” “What if the kitchen window is locked?” “Then we use the spare key under the flowerpot.” “You saw that?” “I watched the birthday boy’s father hide it.” “Could be a decoy key.” “Bill, he hid it under a pot labeled ‘SPARE KEY.’” “That is exactly what somebody with a decoy key wants us to think.” A little girl shrieked with laughter as the magician pulled an endless string of handkerchiefs from his sleeve. “Look at them,” Bill said. “They’re happy.” “They’re eating blue icing from a communal tray. Happiness is a temporary chemical event.” “One of those presents could be a doll.” “Then we sell it.” “A teddy bear?” “Sell it.” “A chemistry set?” “Keep the goggles. Sell the rest.” Bill looked at the map. “What’s this circle?” “The cake.” “And why is it marked ‘avoid’?” “Because last time I stole a cake, I got recognized by the frosting.” “That was a wedding.” “It was a very judgmental wedding.” The garden gate swung open slightly in the breeze. Molly froze. “Now,” she whispered. “Now?” “Now.” “We haven’t done the countdown.” “You want a countdown?” “All proper heists have countdowns.” Molly sighed. “Fine. Three.” “Wait. Do we have bags?” She stared at him. “I have a backpack.” “That is a backpack with a cartoon astronaut on it.” “It’s camouflage.” “For what? A seven-year-old?” “It says ‘Space Champ.’ Children respect achievement.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “Two.” “Shouldn’t we wear masks?” “We are wearing masks.” Bill touched the black cloth over his face. “Mine smells like soup.” “It was in the laundry basket.” “Whose soup?” “Does it matter?” “It matters a little.” “One.” They slipped through the gate and darted behind the shed. From there, Molly could see the present table: a glorious mound of wrapped boxes, gift bags, and shiny bows. Bill’s eyes widened. “That’s more loot than the jeweler’s.” “Children have relatives,” Molly said. “Relatives panic-buy.” A dog trotted around the corner, wearing a cone decorated with glitter. It sniffed Bill’s trouser leg. “Problem,” Bill whispered. “Handle it.” Bill crouched. “Hello, officer.” The dog wagged its tail. “Good officer. Fine officer. You have seen nothing and will receive absolutely no sausage.” The dog barked. “Why would you mention sausage?” Molly hissed. “Dogs like sausage.” “Now it expects sausage.” Bill fumbled in his pocket and produced a crumpled party horn. “Will this do?” The dog took it and ran away triumphantly. Molly nodded despite herself. “Acceptable.” They reached the kitchen window. Molly lifted it silently, then climbed inside. Bill followed, landing in a bowl of crisps. “Stealthy,” Molly muttered. “I softened the impact.” “With onion flavor.” They crept toward the patio. Beyond the glass, the magician announced something grandly, unheard beneath the thump of music. “Ready?” Molly asked. Bill looked at the presents, then toward the laughing children. “No.” Molly blinked. “No?” “We take the big ones, leave the small ones, and put the cake back if we touch it.” “That is not how theft works.” “It is how I work.” Molly considered him, then grinned. “Fine. But we’re taking the chemistry set.” “Goggles?” “Goggles.” “And the astronaut backpack stays.” “Obviously.”