Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KRPEMSW17QZCSHMFBFMD2X

Molly taped the crudely drawn map of the Hendersons' backyard onto the kitchen table with a bottle of cheap merlot and a half-eaten bag of pretzels. The cul-de-sac was quiet at four in the afternoon, which was exactly the problem. A children's birthday party was not a job, Bill insisted last week, but the invitation in her mailbox changed his mind. Six-year-old twins. A bouncy castle. A table covered in presents still wrapped in glittery paper and tied with bows that cost more than their deposit. Bill was already in a full inflatable dinosaur costume, which he claimed was essential disguise. The tail kept knocking over the map. He waddled to the window and peered through the blinds. The Hendersons had hired a clown and a cotton candy machine and at least three adults who thought they were supervising. Molly said, "The clown is the biggest risk." Bill said, "The clown is the biggest distraction." She said, "You cannot be serious about the dinosaur." He said, "I am serious about not getting shot by a parent with a Nerf gun." The garage door was open and the kids were inside the house for cake, which gave them a twelve minute window before the piñata. She checked her watch. The twins' mother was busy filming the singing, which meant nobody was watching the back gate. She had scoped it three times. The presents were on a folding table under a pop-up canopy. No one locks a canopy. Bill inflated his chest and made a low roar that sounded suspiciously like a stomach growl. He had eaten a sandwich. Molly told him to be quiet. He told her to be patient. She told him patience was not in his job description. He said it was in hers. She rolled her eyes and pointed at the plan. Phase one, get in through the pet door. Phase two, distract with dinosaur. Phase three, load presents into the diaper bag. The diaper bag was real. It had been stolen from a stroller last Tuesday. It was perfect. Bill asked, "Are we really going to steal from children?" Molly asked, "Do children understand compound interest?" He said, "They understand candy." She said, "Candy is a bonus." Outside a chorus of high pitched screaming announced the start of musical chairs. The timing was perfect. Bill waddled out the back door, tail thumping the fence. Molly followed with the bag and a pair of latex gloves that kept falling off. The back yard smelled like hot dogs and sunscreen. The presents sat in neat rows like loot in a museum. A little girl in a pink tutu was guarding them with a plastic sword. Bill the dinosaur shuffled forward and sneezed on purpose. The kids screamed with delight and ran over. Molly slipped behind the table. She lifted a glittery box and the ribbon snapped. The whole table wobbled. Bill was now doing the dinosaur dance and knocking over the juice boxes. A parent turned, frowned, then decided it was part of the entertainment. Molly stuffed three presents into the bag, then four. The zipper was screaming. Bill gave her a thumbs up with a clawed hand. She almost laughed. Almost. The gate latch clicked as they slipped out. Behind them the clown honked his nose and someone yelled about cake. Molly said, "We have the loot." Bill said, "We have a dinosaur." She said, "Same thing."