Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NT79920937ZTYBNTJPKX7

“Before we begin,” Molly said, “I want it understood that I object to the phrase ‘children’s party.’ It makes us sound like we’re stealing from children.” “We are stealing from children,” Bill said. “We’re stealing presents. The presents are technically unattended.” “They’re under a table surrounded by children.” “Then they’re very well guarded unattended presents.” Bill peered through the hedge. Beyond it, a banner announced HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLIVER! Balloons bobbed over a lawn crowded with small guests, a suspiciously energetic clown, and one enormous cake. “We go in, collect every present, and leave before anyone notices.” “How?” “Disguises.” Molly looked at his jacket. “You’re wearing a jacket with a picture of a horse on it.” “It’s a costume.” “It says ‘Stable Genius’.” “Exactly. Nobody suspects a genius.” “Nobody suspects a horse, either. You could go as one.” Bill considered this. “I don’t have the legs.” They watched a little girl march past the gift table carrying a plastic sword. “That one’s got a weapon,” Molly whispered. “It’s a toy.” “Tell that to the last man who underestimated a toy sword.” “That was you. You tripped over it.” “And I learned respect.” Bill took out a folded sheet of paper. “I’ve drawn a map.” Molly opened it. It showed a rectangle labeled PARTY, a smaller rectangle labeled CAKE, and a large X over the swimming pool. “Why is the pool marked?” “Contingencies.” “Your map is a cake with an X in it.” “It’s a top-down view.” “Of what, a birthday pie?” A shriek rose from the party. The clown had produced a rabbit from a hat. Bill flinched. “Focus,” Molly said. “We’ll blend in as entertainers.” “You can juggle?” “I can drop things in a circle.” “That’s not juggling.” “It is if the audience is forgiving.” “What do I do?” “Balloon animals.” “I’m afraid of balloons.” “You’re afraid of everything.” “Not everything. I’m comfortable around small locked boxes.” A boy in a paper crown wandered toward the hedge. Molly straightened and waved. “Are you the birthday people?” he asked. “We’re the—” Bill began. “Magicians,” Molly said. “Your parents hired us.” The boy squinted at them. “My dad hired a magician. He’s got a rabbit.” Bill glanced toward the clown. “That’s our rabbit.” The boy looked at the rabbit, then at Bill. “It likes him better.” “That’s because I’m holding a carrot,” the clown called. Molly grabbed Bill’s sleeve. “Retreat.” “Without the presents?” “Would you like to explain to a child why we’ve stolen his birthday?” “I could say we’re returning them.” “To whom?” “Santa?” “It’s August.” “He’s flexible.” The boy lifted his sword. “I’m telling my dad.” Molly and Bill bolted—not toward the presents, but straight into a sprinkler. They stopped, soaked, as the party erupted in applause. “Are we being chased?” Bill asked. “No,” Molly said. “They think we’re part of the show.” The birthday boy ran up and handed her a wrapped box. “You can have this. It’s for the magician.” Molly stared at it. “Bill, we’ve succeeded.” The clown leaned over. “That’s my present.” Molly handed it back. “We’ve succeeded in returning one present.” “And getting wet,” Bill said. “Every great heist has a price.” “Next time, we steal something dry.” “Like what?” “Napkins.” “Now you’re thinking big.”