Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K9XXSN2J6RZC5889R2H24Y

Molly spread the blueprint across the kitchen table, anchoring it with a half-eaten bagel and Bill’s elbow. The diagram showed a backyard, a bouncy castle, and a gift table draped in a rainbow tablecloth. “Okay, walk me through it again,” Bill said, squinting. “But this time, pretend I’m a genius.” “You’re not,” Molly said. “But I’ll try. The party starts at two. Parents drop the kids off, then run to the coffee cart by the garage. That gives us eleven minutes.” “Eleven minutes to steal, like, forty presents?” “Thirty-seven,” Molly corrected. “I counted the RSVPs. Plus two gift bags from grandma types.” Bill leaned closer to the map. “And the bouncy castle? Is that a threat?” “Only if you fall off it. We’re not going near the castle. We go through the hedge, across the lawn, and hit the table from the west side. The clown is stationed near the grill. He’s blind in his left eye.” “How do you know that?” “I asked him at a bar last week. He said the left eye was a birthday party accident. Very dark backstory. Also he loves a woman named Brenda. I told him I was Brenda to practice.” Bill blinked slowly. “You’re terrifying.” “Thank you. Now, the dog. A golden retriever named Sprinkles. She’s trained to guard the present pile.” “A golden retriever? Guard? She’d show me where the squeaky toys are.” Molly shook her head. “Sprinkles was raised by a former security contractor who retired to the suburbs. She doesn’t fetch. She intercepts. If you reach for a gift, she will sit on your foot and look disappointed. It’s psychologically devastating.” “So what do we do? Bring a decoy bone?” “Better. We bring a fake present. She’s trained to protect the pile, not the location. If we put a gift-wrapped box of bacon-flavored chew sticks just outside the hedge, she’ll reroute to guard that. Thirty seconds later, we’re clear.” Bill nodded slowly. “And the parents?” “Inside, doing a piñata reveal. The birthday girl is named Chloe. She’s been promised a unicorn piñata. There isn’t one. The dad is currently inflating a llama he rented as backup.” “A llama piñata?” “It’s a rough day for Chloe. But it’s our day. We move in during the screams.” Bill grinned. “I like it. What about the present-colored balloons tied to the table? Those look like tripwires.” Molly sighed. “Those are balloons, Bill. They’re tied to the table so they don’t float away. Not a laser grid.” “You can’t be too careful.” “You can. You literally can. I’ve seen you be too careful at a farmers’ market.” Bill grabbed a napkin and started folding it into a hat. “So we hit the table, grab the haul, and slip out through the tool shed. What’s our exit phrase?” “There isn’t one. We’re not in a heist movie.” “Molly, every heist has a phrase. If we don’t plan it, we’ll say something stupid under pressure.” “You’ll say something stupid anyway. You called a security camera a ‘Chinese lantern with judgment issues’ last month.” “It was shaped suspiciously.” Molly rubbed her temples. “Fine. Exit phrase. If someone spots us, you say, ‘I’m looking for my niece.’ And I say, ‘Wrong house, Dana.’ Then we run.” “Why Dana?” “Because nobody trusts a Dana.” Bill considered this. “Okay. But I want a backup phrase. Something sheisty. Like, ‘The llama sees all.’” “The llama is a piñata. It sees nothing.” “You don’t know that.” Molly folded the blueprint and shoved it in her jacket. “Twelve noon. Bring the fake gift. Wear something that isn’t black. It’s a children’s party. You’ll stand out like a cryptid.” “I’m not wearing pastels, Molly.” “Then you’re staying in the car.” Bill huffed. “Fine. I’ll wear a very trustworthy lavender.” Molly smiled. “Now you’re thinking like a thief.”