Run: 2026-09-01-01M1ENDXD7BNA2AKDC2P7QWM7Q

Bill leaned against the fence with his arms crossed, his black turtleneck displaying a mustard stain that had achieved its own mythology. He glanced up at the window glowing with rainbow streamers and lowered his voice. "Before we do anything, we need to address the balloon problem." Molly adjusted the napkin she was using as a heist clipboard. "Balloons are just latex and lies, Bill. We vault them and we move on." "Vault them?" Bill pulled out a pair of goggles with a strap held together by tape. "There are forty-seven of them, Molly. I counted. Forty-seven! And they make that squeaking noise when you rub them, which is not a sound a professional thief should have to endure." "That is psychological warfare, Bill. The birthday kid wants them. We want the presents under them. Focus." "Right. Focus." He glanced at a clown statue near the front door. "What if there's a piñata? I don't do piñatas. Last time I was near one, I had a concussion and a stick for three weeks." "Last time was a piñata in Kansas, Bill. This is a children's party in Oakridge. Completely different energy." "I don't think energy changes the physics of sticks." Molly pointed through the hedge at the sliding kitchen door. "Entry is the kitchen. It sticks, which is perfect for us because we stick too, only faster. We slide in, we slide out, no alarms, no cupcakes, no recognition." "We slide in, we slide out. Then what? We carry seventeen teddy bears and a plastic drum set with drumsticks?" "We carry what fits in the duffel, and we leave the cake. The cake is not part of the heist." Bill nodded slowly, his eyes locked on the clown statue. "The cake isn't part of the heist. Good. I was worried you'd want the cake. Cake is a trap that leads to frosting and regret." "Only if you eat it, Bill. And I do not eat cake. I steal cake and sell it to raccoons. Raccoons have high standards." "We don't care about raccoons. We care about the big present in the corner with the shiny ribbon." "That's the princess castle," Bill said. "It's three feet tall and requires assembly with a screwdriver." "I have an Allen wrench in my sock. It's strange, but effective. And it's royal blue, which matches the castle." "Royal blue is a good color for a sock wrench," Bill admitted. "What about the clown?" "There is no clown." "There's always a clown, Molly. I saw footage. There is a clown doing magic tricks with a rubber chicken in the corner." "We do not deal with the clown. We bypass him. We are thieves, not therapists, and certainly not audience members." Bill checked a phone that displayed a picture of a cupcake with sprinkles. "Would it hurt to take one cupcake?" "It would hurt my pride, Bill. The plan is surgical. No cupcakes, no balloons, no clowns, just presents, specifically the castle and the robot with the remote control." "Just the castle and the robot." He glanced at the door. "What if they have a piñata?" "If they have a piñata, I will personally deflate it with my phone charger, which is fully charged because I planned ahead like a professional." Bill reached into his pocket and pulled out two bent spoons tied together with a rubber band. "You know I trust you, Molly." "I know you have to, because you are wearing a black turtleneck with a mustard stain and your backup plan is just hope and two spoons." "That is not true. I have you, which is better than hope. And the spoons are professional grade." Molly rapped her knuckle against the glass with purpose. "Let's move. The party starts in ten minutes, the kids are arriving with good present-opening skills, and we need to be faster than a sugar rush." "Faster than a sugar rush, and quieter than a polite child." Bill adjusted his goggles. "Remember, we don't talk to anyone. Especially not the clown. If he asks for an assistant, we say no." "We say no. We are invisible. We are the shadows that steal toys. We are..." "We are about to get caught by toddlers," Bill finished. "Not if we are fast and hold the duffel correctly." Molly tossed him a pair of latex gloves that were clearly stolen from a hospital or a dentist. "Put these on. They are the same material as the balloons, which means they are part of the psychological warfare." Bill pulled them on; they were far too large. "How exactly do we blend? We are in black. There is a princess theme. There might be unicorns." "We blend because we are faster than the kids, Bill. That is how. And we do not make eye contact. We do not say hello. We do not acknowledge the clown's rubber chicken." "Understood. No eye contact. No hello. No chicken acknowledgment." Bill nodded firmly. "Let's do this." "Let's do this." Molly adjusted her napkin clipboard one final time. "Remember. No cupcakes. No balloons. No clowns. Just the castle, the robot, and exit before the cake is sliced." "Just the castle, the robot, and exit." He smiled slightly. "For the record, I am still worried about the piñata." "Then worry quietly," Molly whispered, "and let's slip through the hedge before the first gift is torn open." Bill nodded, and they vanished into the shrubbery, leaving behind nothing but the smell of mustard, a broken spoon, and the distant sound of a squeaking balloon.