Run: 2026-09-02-01M1HGASH5YWXAAHSTYJCGW2SV

The backyard smelled like juice boxes and poor decisions. Molly ducked behind the inflatable dolphin, her crowbar disguised as a giant lollipop. Bill whispered, "This is genius. Kids have the money and zero situational awareness." "They have parents." "Parents have wine and a shared Google Calendar." Molly pointed at the table stacked with gifts. "If we grab the presents, Timmy cries." "Timmy has cried since he was four. It's basically a personality." "We can't steal from a child." "We're stealing from the pile. The pile has no feelings." "Timmy's feelings." "I'm not taking his feelings, I'm taking his unicycle." "That's definitely worse." Bill adjusted his clown nose. "I've studied the pattern. Cake at three. Parents drift toward the dessert table. Children orbit the bouncy castle. We swoop." "Swoop? Bill, we are not swooping." "We're wearing clown shoes, Molly. The universe expects a swoop." "We are not wearing clown shoes." "I put them in your bag. As gifts. From me to us." Molly stared at him through the hedge. "You gave us shoes?" "They're ergonomic." "For crime." "For comedy crime." Bill checked his watch. "We go when the clown juggles." "Why?" "Because everyone looks. It's physics." "It's not physics." "It's party gravity." Molly frowned. "What about the gift cards?" Bill tapped the map. "Gold. Paper rectangles full of financial freedom." "They're birthday cards." "They're bearer bonds with dinosaurs." "You are terrible." "I am prepared." Molly counted the presents. "Fourteen." "Fifteen. You missed the one with the dinosaur." "I don't care about dinosaurs." "They care about us. That's leverage." "You are impossible." "And you're wearing the nose." Molly touched the red foam on her face. "I hate that you're correct." Bill pulled a tiny backpack from behind the dolphin. "For the loot." "It's a child's backpack." "It has a unicorn. It has emotional range." "Bill, we can't carry fifteen presents in a toddler pack." "We can carry one. The rest are decoys." "Decoys." "Unwrapped, slightly used, and strategically unicycled." Molly whispered. "That is the stupidest sentence I've ever heard." "Stupid is a tool." "Then I hope you sharpened it." They crept forward, stepping on a sprinkler that sprayed them both. Bill shivered. "New plan." "No." "We steal the presents later and get the chocolate fountain now." "That's not a plan." "It's a snack with a crime on top." Molly sighed. "Fine. But we leave the unicycle." "For Timmy?" "No. For my back." Bill grinned, solemn as a man holding a stolen lollipop. "To the wagon." "To hell." "To the wagon in hell." Molly grabbed a balloon that read happy eighth. "That's evidence," Bill whispered. "It's a party favor." "Party favors are what get us." Molly tied it to the wagon. "I'm feeling festive." "Don't get sentimental. Sentimentality loses in crosswalks." "We're not crossing a street." "We're crossing the moral street." They ran, slipped, collided with the bouncy castle, and burst through the clown's legs. Bill panted. "We did it." Molly held up the tiny backpack. "We stole one present." "It had a unicorn."