Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40PBVGHN6WCV6FR7YG1N55

Molly crouched behind the hedge, studying the birthday house with professional suspicion. Balloons bobbed on the gate like brightly colored witnesses. Through the window, children shrieked around a magician whose cape appeared to be made from a tablecloth. Bill adjusted his black ski mask, which had tiny embroidered kittens on it. “Why are there twelve parents in there?” Molly whispered. “Security,” Bill said. “Hostile security with juice boxes.” On the dining table sat a mountain of presents: wrapped cubes, shiny bags, one enormous parcel shaped like a dinosaur. Molly’s fingers twitched. Their fence had promised excellent resale value, especially for anything requiring batteries. The plan was simple. Bill would trigger the garden sprinkler, sending adults outside in a damp, panicked stampede. Molly would slip through the back door, load the gifts into a laundry basket, and vanish through the neighbor’s compost alley. A clown wandered past the window, staring directly at them. Molly froze. “Is that clown watching us?” “He’s probably undercover,” Bill muttered. The sprinkler sputtered, coughed, then erupted with the enthusiasm of a municipal fountain. Parents surged outdoors, clutching paper plates and toddlers. Molly darted toward the door. Inside, the magician lifted his wand. Every present began to bark. Bill sighed. “I hate themed parties.”