Run: 2026-09-03-01M1KRQ43QMNX7Q56JG6EVDY3H

The kitchen smelled of cheap pizza and bad decisions. Molly spread a crumpled flyer across the table. Bill stared at it like it might bite. It advertised a fifth birthday party for Timmy Chen, balloons, cake, and a mountain of presents in the backyard at 3 p.m. Molly tapped the address with a fingernail painted neon green. "This is it. Perfect timing. Parents are distracted, kids are sugar crashed." Bill picked up a slice and chewed thoughtfully. "Molly, we steal from banks. Banks have alarms. Banks don't have juice boxes." "Juice boxes are alarms," Molly said. "Kids scream louder than sirens. But that's the point. No security. Just a tired mom named Karen and a dad who thinks he's a DJ." "Are we really going to dress as clowns?" Bill asked. "We're going to dress as party entertainers. Clowns are optional. I was thinking magician. You do the balloon animals." "I can't do balloon animals." "You can do balloon apologies." Bill sighed. "What's the plan?" "The presents are in the garage, according to the RSVP thread I hacked. Timmy's mom posted pictures. Big table, wrapped stuff everywhere. We go in during the piñata. Everyone's eyes are up." "And then?" "And then we grab. Fast. In and out before the candy hits the floor." "That's a lot of wrapping paper." "Molly, you have a moral line?" "My moral line is crooked and moves with the money. These are toys for one kid. He'll get more. He has parents with a mortgage." Bill pointed at the flyer. "It says no adults without RSVP." "That's why you're coming as my uncle. Uncle Bill. From accounting. Very boring." "I'm from accounting now?" "You can be from wherever. Just nod and look confused when someone offers you a cupcake." "And you?" "Aunt Molly. Party photographer. I take pictures, I pocket the presents." Bill leaned back. "What if Timmy cries?" "Then we leave a lollipop and a note saying Santa was here early. He'll think it's magic." "You really want to steal from a five-year-old?" "I want to steal from five-year-olds' parents who buy them six robot vacuums. It's a public service." Bill folded the flyer. "Okay. Three p.m. I'll bring the duffel." "And I'll bring the wigs." Molly grinned. "We need a cover story for the gifts. I'll say the photographer needs props." "Props," Bill repeated. "You're gonna say you need a plastic dinosaur for scale?" "Exactly. Very artsy." "You are not artsy." "I am criminally artsy. Also, we need gloves. No fingerprints on glitter." "Glitter is a fingerprint." "Fine. We just don't get caught." Bill stood up and stretched. "What about the dog? The flyer says friendly dog on site." "Bring cheese. Dogs love cheese. And thieves love distracted dogs." "You're a genius." "I'm a professional. Last heist we got the catering tray from the wedding." "That was cheese cubes and you said you were allergic." "I was committed." Molly started packing a small bag. "Uncle Bill, you remember your lines. If anyone asks, you're here for the cake." "I hate cake." "Then you can be here for the presents. That works too." Bill laughed. "This is the dumbest thing we've ever done." "That's how you know it's perfect. No one expects thieves at a birthday party." "Except every five-year-old who saw Home Alone." "Exactly. They'll be too busy plotting their own heist to notice ours." Molly pulled out a map. "Backyard gate is on Maple. Front door is chaos. We enter through the side, exit through the garage." Bill nodded. "And if Karen asks why we're taking the Lego set?" "We don't take it. We relocate it for photos." "That's a new one." "It's innovative crime." "Okay, Aunt Molly. Let's go steal some presents." The kitchen clock ticked. Somewhere a child screamed with joy. Molly and Bill smiled.