Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KAVZNKXTZ34F63Y6FS66MK

The inflatable bounce castle loomed like a polyester Everest, and Molly squinted at it through a pair of binoculars stolen from a very angry birdwatcher. Bill crouched beside her behind a hedge, eating a cupcake he’d swiped from the catering table. “See anything?” Bill asked, licking frosting off his thumb. “The birthday girl’s wearing a tiara that’s probably cubic zirconia,” Molly said. “But the present table? That’s the mother lode. Wrapped in unicorn paper. I count seventeen boxes.” “Seventeen? That’s a lot of Barbies and Lego sets we can fence.” “Fence? We’re not fencing. We’re gifting. To ourselves.” “Right. Obviously.” Bill pulled a crumpled map from his pocket. “Okay, here’s the layout. Clown enters at two, magic show at two-forty-five, cake at three. The presents are guarded by a six-year-old named Kevin who takes his job very seriously. I saw him tackle a pigeon.” “A pigeon?” “It looked at the presents. Kevin was having none of it.” Molly lowered the binoculars. “So we go during the piñata. Everyone’s distracted by candy. I’ll create a diversion—maybe set off the fire alarm.” “There’s no fire alarm. It’s a backyard party.” “Then I’ll scream ‘The ice cream truck is leaving!’” “That’s cruel.” “Effective. You grab the haul and run for the fence. I’ll meet you at the van.” Bill shook his head. “What about Kevin?” “Kevin will be too busy crying about the ice cream. Or maybe he’ll chase you. He’s fast.” “Fast? He’s got little stubby legs. I can outrun him.” “Can you outrun his mother? Because she’s got a folding chair and a death glare.” Bill considered that. “We need a decoy. A child. We hire a kid to pretend to be lost.” “Hire a kid? With what budget? We spent everything on this cupcake.” Molly gestured at the half-eaten pastry. “I’ll make a fake lost sign. ‘HAVE YOU SEEN ME?’ with a cartoon dog. Kids love dogs.” “That’s for missing pets, not missing people.” “Same emotional response. Trust me.” Bill stood up, brushing grass off his knees. “Okay, here’s the real plan. We show up dressed as mimes. Mimes are invisible. Everyone ignores them.” “Mimes can’t talk, you idiot. How do we coordinate?” “We use hand signals. I’ll do the ‘box’ gesture. That means ‘go.’ I’ll do the ‘walking against wind’ gesture. That means ‘trouble.’ And I’ll do the ‘pulling rope’ gesture. That means ‘get the van started.’” “Those are all the same gesture.” “No, they’re very distinct. I practiced in the mirror.” Molly stared at him. “You practiced mime gestures for a heist?” “I practiced for a mime heist, yes. It’s a niche skill.” “Bill, we are not doing a mime heist.” “Fine. But I’m still wearing the white face paint. It’ll intimidate Kevin.” “Kevin will laugh at you.” “Then he’ll be laughing when I steal his juice box. That’s psychological warfare.” Molly grabbed his arm. “Look, the mother just left the table. She’s going to the grill. Kevin is chasing a balloon. It’s now or never.” “Now? But I haven’t finished my cupcake.” “Drop the cupcake.” “Never.” Bill took a huge bite, then ran toward the fence with his mouth full. Molly sighed, pulled out a slingshot, and launched a pebble at the piñata. It burst open, showering candy across the lawn. Chaos erupted. Kids screamed. Adults scrambled. Bill vaulted the fence, arms full of unicorn paper, and shouted, “THE ICE CREAM TRUCK IS LEAVING!” as he disappeared. Molly stood there, shook her head, and walked calmly to the van. “Amateurs,” she muttered. “But at least he got the presents.”