Run: 2026-09-23-01M36P35MHFA0MVQ8ZRT39W45G

“We go in through the kitchen,” Molly whispered, studying the party house through binoculars. “The back door is guarded.” “By whom?” Bill asked. “A six-year-old dressed as a dragon.” Bill lowered his binoculars. “Armed?” “With a paper sword.” “Then we’re finished.” They crouched behind a hedge, dressed in black and carrying two empty pillowcases. Inside the house, children shrieked with the joyous abandon of people who had never paid rent. A banner on the front porch announced HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TOBY! in letters that appeared to have been applied during an earthquake. Molly pointed to a window. “Presents are stacked in the living room. We slip in, scoop them up, and vanish.” “What if they’re watching?” “They’re children, Bill. Distract them with cake.” “What if I eat the cake?” “Then I distract them with you.” Bill nodded. “I can do a magic trick.” “You can’t do magic.” “I can make a coin disappear.” “Into your pocket.” “Still counts.” They waited until a flock of children surged toward the garden, chasing a bubble machine. Molly sprang from the hedge and crept along the wall. Bill followed, stepping on a squeaky toy. The toy shrieked. Both thieves froze. From the kitchen, a woman called, “Was that the dog?” Bill whispered, “Do they have a dog?” “They do now.” A small terrier came racing around the corner, barking. Bill faced it with the grave dignity of a man negotiating with a tiny landlord. “Good dog,” he said. “We’re here about the presents.” The terrier barked harder. Molly grabbed Bill’s collar and dragged him through the open kitchen window. They landed in a heap beside a bowl of crisps. “Subtle,” she hissed. “I was establishing rapport.” “You established crumbs.” The living room was crowded with wrapped gifts. Molly opened her pillowcase. Bill took out a present shaped like a box. “Careful,” Molly said. “We don’t know what’s inside.” “It’s for a child. Probably something valuable.” He shook it. A plastic kazoo blared from within. Bill recoiled. “It’s booby-trapped.” “Put it back.” “But then we’ve learned nothing.” “You’ve learned that presents make noise.” A shadow fell across them. A girl stood in the doorway, wearing a paper crown and holding a cupcake. “Are you the burglars?” she asked. Molly smiled. “No, sweetheart. We’re the entertainment.” “Can you steal my brother’s socks?” Bill brightened. “At last, a client.” The girl pointed at the presents. “Those are mine to open later.” “Of course,” Molly said. “We were just checking the wrapping.” “Why?” “Quality control,” Bill said. “Some of these bows are dangerously loose.” The girl considered this, then handed him the cupcake. “You can fix that one.” While Bill inspected the frosting, Molly quietly emptied her pillowcase of a single present and set it back on the stack. “You’re not stealing anything?” Bill whispered. “Not from a children’s party.” “Then why bring the bags?” “For the cake.” Auntie voices rose in the hall. Molly and Bill scrambled back through the kitchen window, carrying three slices of cake and one kazoo. Outside, Bill sighed. “This was a terrible heist.” “Terrible?” Molly said. “We got away with the loot.” The kazoo blared. “And left the evidence,” she added.