Run: 2026-09-23-01M36RE6SGRDMQF73Z7QEXN5CN

Rain tapped the windshield of the rented van. Across the street, a community hall glowed with balloons and a banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY, THEO! Molly studied it through binoculars. Bill studied a cupcake he had stolen from the buffet table during reconnaissance. “Remind me why we’re robbing a children’s party,” Bill said. “Because the presents are all in one place.” “So are the children.” “They’re smaller. Less intimidating.” “One of them called me ‘the man with the suspicious mustache.’” “Your mustache is suspicious.” “It’s a perfectly respectable mustache.” “It’s wearing a disguise.” Bill touched his false mustache. It came away in his hand. “All right. We enter as entertainers. You juggle; I do magic.” “You can’t juggle.” “I can drop things in an entertaining way.” “And your magic?” “I make snacks disappear.” “That’s called eating, Bill.” Molly lowered the binoculars. Inside the hall, a dozen children were circling a mountain of brightly wrapped gifts while a woman in a paper crown tried to organize them. “New plan,” she said. “We become the birthday children’s favorite aunt and uncle.” “We don’t know Theo.” “Neither does every aunt and uncle. They just arrive with a card and say, ‘You’ve grown.’” “I could say that to the cake.” “You could, but don’t.” Bill leaned forward. “How do we get the presents out?” “Carefully.” “That’s not a plan. That’s an adverb.” “We’ll borrow the party’s gift wagon.” “Borrow?” “Steal, then return.” “That’s borrowing with a dramatic middle.” Molly pointed at the hall. “We roll the presents to the van during the cake song.” “The children will notice a wagon full of gifts leaving.” “They’ll be singing.” “Children can sing and notice things. They’re surprisingly good at both.” “Then we distract them.” “With magic?” “With your juggling.” “That’s just the cake plan again, and I’m beginning to suspect you don’t have a plan.” “I have several. They’re all improving under pressure.” Bill peered through the window. “What if the presents are all toys? We can’t fence a hundred toy dinosaurs.” “We could open a museum.” “‘The Molly and Bill Museum of Things We Stole From Children’ sounds legally risky.” “Fine. We’ll take the presents, sell the valuable ones, and donate the rest.” “To whom?” “Children.” “So we steal from children to give to children?” “Exactly. It’s called philanthropy with a getaway vehicle.” Bill stared at the van. A large pink balloon had snagged on its antenna and bobbed above them like a flag announcing their intentions. “Your getaway vehicle is waving at the party.” Molly sighed. “Cut the balloon.” “I can’t. It looks happy.” “It’s a balloon, Bill.” “It’s having a better birthday than I am.” From inside, the children began singing. Molly reached for the door handle, then stopped. “What?” Bill whispered. “I just realized something.” “What?” “We forgot wrapping paper.” Bill glanced at the heap of presents. “We’re stealing wrapped presents.” “But if we donate them, we’ll need new tags.” “Then we write ‘From the suspicious mustache.’” Molly looked at him. “That’s your plan?” “It’s improving under pressure.” She put the binoculars down. “We’re leaving.” “Without the presents?” “Without the presents.” Bill clutched the cupcake. “Can I keep this?” Molly started the engine. “That’s the only part of the operation you’ve managed successfully.” “Then I consider the heist a triumph.” The balloon bobbed solemnly as the van pulled away.