Run: 2026-07-09-01KX4152G9CYMJZK3A5X32RS55

Molly crouched behind the hedge, studying the bungalow through binoculars shaped like two tiny pineapples. Inside, balloons bobbed against the ceiling, a magician pulled scarves from a hat, and twelve children screamed with the concentrated joy of people who had never paid rent. Bill adjusted his black balaclava, which had a large yellow duck embroidered on the forehead. “Why are we robbing a birthday party dressed like chimney sweeps?” “Because chimney sweeps are trusted.” “No one trusts chimney sweeps, Molly. They arrive covered in soot and immediately ask to inspect your flue.” “They’re practically national treasures.” “So are stamps, but you don’t see stamps breaking into houses.” Molly lowered the binoculars. “Focus. The presents are in the dining room. I counted fourteen boxes, three gift bags, one suspiciously lumpy dinosaur piñata, and a bicycle.” “The bicycle’s too big.” “Nothing is too big if you believe in yourself and bring a van.” Bill peered over the hedge. “The children look dangerous.” “They’re seven.” “Exactly. Seven-year-olds have no fear, no loyalty, and sticky hands. I once owed a seven-year-old five pounds for a Pokémon card. He sent his grandmother after me.” A shriek erupted from the house as the magician produced a rabbit. The rabbit looked less surprised than Bill. “Right,” Molly said. “Phase One: enter through the side gate. Phase Two: distract the adults. Phase Three: acquire the loot. Phase Four: leave before anyone notices the birthday boy has only received a scented candle from Auntie Pauline.” “What’s Phase Five?” “Celebrate with cake.” “I thought we were stealing presents.” “We’re thieves, Bill, not animals.” They slipped through the gate and crossed the garden in a crouch that would have looked stealthy if Bill’s duck hat had not squeaked with every step. Near the patio door, Molly opened her satchel and removed a clipboard, a fake moustache, and a laminated badge reading PARTY SAFETY INSPECTOR. Bill stared at it. “You made a badge?” “I made three. This one is for cake emergencies.” “There are cake emergencies?” “There are now.” Molly pushed open the patio door. Warm air, music, and the smell of sausage rolls washed over them. A woman in a glittery cardigan spotted them immediately. “Can I help you?” Molly flashed the badge. “Party Safety Inspection. We’ve had reports of unsecured jelly, unregulated party poppers, and a potentially overexcited clown.” “There isn’t a clown.” Bill pointed toward the magician. “Then what’s that?” The magician glared at him over a rabbit. The woman blinked. “I’m the birthday boy’s mum.” “Then you’ll want to know,” Molly said gravely, “that your balloon-to-child ratio is perilously high.” Bill nodded. “One more balloon and someone could float away.” While the mother tried to decide whether to call the police or offer them crisps, Molly drifted toward the dining room. Bill followed, dragging an enormous red sack behind him. “Quietly,” Molly whispered. “I am being quiet.” “The sack says ‘HO HO HO’ every time it moves.” “That’s festive camouflage.” In the dining room, presents glittered beneath a banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLLIE! Molly began loading boxes into the sack with professional efficiency. Bill picked up a parcel shaped like a book. “This one feels educational.” “Take it.” “What if it’s a dictionary?” “Then we’ll sell it to someone who wants to spell ‘disappointed.’” A small voice came from the doorway. “That’s my present pile.” Molly and Bill froze. Ollie stood there in a paper crown, holding a plastic sword and watching them with narrowed eyes. Bill smiled weakly. “We’re quality control.” Ollie raised the sword. “Mum! The chimney sweeps are stealing my birthday!” Molly grabbed the bicycle. “Phase Four!” Bill seized the sack. “What about cake?” “Phase Five is cancelled!” They sprinted through the garden as children poured after them, armed with party hats, foam swords, and an alarming quantity of glitter. Bill’s sack snagged on the hedge, splitting open and showering the lawn with presents. Molly vaulted the fence. Bill followed, clutching only the scented candle. “Successful job?” he panted. Molly looked at the candle’s label. “Lavender Dreams.” Bill sighed. “We’ve been robbed.”