Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40XJ19HAX7HNM3DBKJ0R58

Molly crouched behind the hedge, studying the suburban house through a pair of opera glasses she had stolen from an opera. “Children’s party,” Bill whispered. “Balloons, cake, musical chairs. We’re robbing a place guarded by six-year-olds and a magician with a rabbit.” “Never underestimate a rabbit,” Molly said. “They know tunnels.” A plastic banner stretched across the porch: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OSCAR! Several gift bags sat beneath a window, bright as tropical birds and guarded by a cardboard dinosaur. Bill adjusted his knitted ski mask. It had two eyeholes, a mouthhole, and a pom-pom. “You said this was a simple job.” “It is simple. We wait until the children are distracted by sugar and minor violence, climb through the laundry window, and remove the presents.” “What if they’re not distracted?” “They’re children at a party. One balloon pops and they’ll form a tribunal.” Inside, a woman in a sequined cape made a coin disappear from a child’s ear. The children screamed with delighted suspicion. Bill frowned. “The magician is good.” “The magician is called Sparkles McFizzle. His business card has a dragon wearing spectacles.” “Exactly. A man like that has nothing left to lose.” Molly unfolded a hand-drawn plan. It showed the house, the garden, and a large circle labeled DOG? with three question marks. “According to the neighborhood watch app, the family owns a miniature schnauzer named Pudding.” “Pudding sounds harmless.” “Pudding has won two obedience competitions.” “Then he’s probably insufferable.” A tiny gray dog appeared at the window, wearing a birthday hat. It stared directly at them. Bill slowly lowered himself behind the hedge. “Did it see us?” “It has the eyes of a tax inspector,” Molly said. “I don’t like this.” “You didn’t like stealing the Duchess’s emeralds, either.” “The Duchess had peacocks.” “And?” “They judged me.” From the garden came a shriek, then the wet sound of something hitting something else. Bill peered over the hedge. “Piñata.” “Perfect. Everyone’s blindfolded and armed.” “That feels less perfect.” Molly checked her watch. “At precisely three fifteen, Sparkles releases his finale: thirty doves, two confetti cannons, and a fog machine shaped like a unicorn. During the panic, we move.” “You researched the magician?” “I read his reviews.” “What did they say?” “One parent gave him five stars. Another said he turned a christening into ‘an unforgettable event involving fire.’” Bill considered the glowing windows. “Suppose the presents are rubbish. Board games. Socks. A science kit with a sad volcano.” “Then we fence them to parents in December. Desperate people will buy anything in a cardboard box.” A child pressed both hands to the glass. Behind him, Pudding barked furiously. “Why is that one looking at us?” Bill asked. “Because you’re wearing a ski mask in July.” “It’s my professional face.” “It has a pom-pom.” “It’s intimidating.” “It’s festive.” The back door opened. A man carrying a tray of juice boxes stepped outside, glanced toward the hedge, and paused. Bill froze. Molly smiled brightly and waved. The man waved back, apparently assuming they were parents with unusual gardening habits. “See?” Molly murmured. “Invisible.” “I think he saw us.” “He saw nothing. Adults at children’s parties are too exhausted to process reality.” Inside, Sparkles McFizzle raised both arms. A drumroll began. Molly tightened her gloves. “Ready?” Bill swallowed. “No.” “Excellent. That means you’re alert.” The first confetti cannon exploded. Children howled. Pudding escaped through the open door, charged across the lawn, and seized Bill’s pom-pom in his teeth. Bill yelped. “Change of plan!” Molly watched the dog drag him toward the house. “Yes,” she said, sprinting after them. “We’re going in through the front.”