Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KCH97BV3DH73N6RX2QJEWP

The basement smelled of stale popcorn and regret. Molly squinted at the blueprint spread across the pool table, a crayon-drawn map of the Johnson family’s backyard. Bill hovered behind her, clutching a bag of gummy bears like a sacred talisman. “The bounce house is here,” Molly said, tapping a purple blob. “And the gift table is here, right next to the lemonade stand. We go over the fence, through the bouncy castle—it’s a distraction—and out the side gate. Thirty seconds, tops.” Bill crunched a gummy bear. “What about the birthday clown? He’s got a squeaky horn. Very loud.” “We’ll come dressed as parents. I have a fanny pack and a sun hat. You’ll wear cargo shorts and a polo.” “I don’t own a polo.” “You’ll buy one. Or steal one. You’re a thief.” Bill frowned. “That feels like an accusation.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Focus. The party starts at two. The parents will be tipsy on boxed wine by three. The kids will be hopped on cake. By three-fifteen, nobody’s watching the presents.” “What about the piñata?” Bill asked. “What about it?” “We could hit it first. Crack it open. The candy falls, chaos ensues. We walk out with the gifts in the chaos.” Molly smiled slowly. “That’s not a terrible idea.” “I have them occasionally.” “We need a decoy. Someone to scream ‘A dog ate the cake!’ and point at the fence.” Bill adjusted his glasses. “I can do that. I’ve been practicing my scream.” “Let me hear it.” Bill took a breath, but Molly held up a hand. “On second thought, save it. I don’t want the neighbors calling the cops before we even start. Now, the gifts. We only take the envelopes and the gift cards. No wrapped boxes. Too bulky.” “But what if there’s a really good box? Like, a LEGO set?” “You’re forty-four.” “LEGO is timeless.” Molly sighed. “Fine. We scout the boxes. If we can fit it in a duffel bag, it’s ours. But we have to be quick. And silent. You know who’s hosting this party?” “A future victim?” “My sister, Diane. She’s my sister, Bill. And she’s a terrible host. She’ll forget ice, and the party will be a mess. But she’ll also have a camera, and she’ll post everything to her mom blog. We cannot be seen.” Bill’s face went pale. “Your sister? That’s a family heist. That’s twice as wrong.” “It’s thrice as profitable. She’s rich. Her husband invests in crypto. The kids get those giant plastic cars and drones. We’re doing a public service, freeing their playroom of clutter.” “Clutter that you’re stealing.” “Exactly. You in?” Bill looked at the gummy bear in his hand. He popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly. “I’ll need a bigger fanny pack.” Molly grinned. “That’s the spirit. Now let’s practice the entrance. You first. Show me your best ‘doting dad’ walk.” Bill puffed out his chest and waddled forward, waving a pretend hand. “Oh, look, little Timmy, that’s a lovely bounce house. Good job, parents. Very sturdy.” Molly buried her face in her hands. “We are going to prison.” “Prison has gummy bears,” Bill said. “We’re going to prison for stealing children’s presents,” Molly said, shaking her head. “You know what? I need a drink.” “We can do that after the heist.” “No, Bill. I need one now.” She folded the blueprint and stuffed it into her pocket. “This plan is ridiculous. Which means it might just work.” Bill nodded. “Or we’ll get maced by a clown. Either way, we’ll have a story.” Molly grabbed her coat. “Let’s get a drink. We’ll plan more tomorrow.” “Where?” “My place. Bring the gummy bears. And Bill?” “Yeah?” “Don’t scream.”