Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R050C9MH19395NJ2F6XQB

Molly unfolded a party map across the laundromat table, pinning one corner beneath a sock. Molly said, “Party starts at noon; parents always leave the cake unattended.” Bill studied the drawing upside down, nodding as if geography were optional. Bill said, “And we stroll in wearing paper crowns, like responsible uncles.” Outside, a delivery van honked; both thieves ducked behind a potted fern. Molly said, “We take every present, but leave the children their ribbons.” Nobody had seen them, except a tortoise wearing a birthday hat. Bill said, “That sounds generous, unless the ribbons are secretly very valuable.” Molly tapped the route, which crossed the garden, climbed the fence, and entered through the kitchen. Molly said, “The getaway is your bicycle, with its squeaky little bell.” Bill packed gloves, a flashlight, and an enormous empty pillowcase. Bill said, “Nobody suspects quiet cyclists carrying suspiciously large sacks after lunch.” The operation seemed simple. Molly said, “We should bring disguises, preferably matching all the birthday decorations.” Bill said, “I have a clown nose that makes me quite trustworthy.” Molly said, “Then let's rehearse, before the invitation becomes evidence against us.” Bill said, “Agreed, though I may accidentally give the gifts back again.”