Run: 2026-09-23-01M36T8VQABDWFE13T8C82G9GR

"Alright, you've dragged me all the way to Maple Street in a clown costume and I still don't understand the plan," Molly whispered from behind the hedge. She tugged at her oversized ruffle collar and scowled at Bill. Bill adjusted his tiny party hat, which sat crookedly between his ears. "The plan is simple. We walk in like we belong, locate the presents, and leave before anyone notices a thing." "Walk in like we belong? Bill, we're two grown adults dressed as clowns. We look like we belong in a police report." "Look at the yard." Bill pointed through the wooden fence. "There's a balloon arch, a bouncy castle, and at least thirty screaming children. Who's going to notice two more clowns?" Molly pressed her face between the slats of the fence. A woman in an apron carried a massive cake shaped like a dinosaur through the back door. "There must be fifty presents in there. That could be worth a fortune. Did you say the rich kid lives here? The tech billionaire's son?" "That's the one. Finn Wellington, age six. His parents aren't even in the country right now. The grandmother is hosting." "So the grandmother is the obstacle." "Hardly an obstacle. She's eighty years old and I've heard she puts brandy in her coffee before noon. We'll be invisible." Molly chuckled and crossed her arms, nearly popping one of the white pom-poms on her chest. "Fine. But we're doing this my way. We don't waltz in and grab the gifts. That's amateur hour. We blend in, and we wait for the moment when all the parents drift toward the food table. That's when we strike." "That's actually not bad, Mol." "I have my moments." "So what do we do with thirty gifts? Carrying a mountain of wrapped boxes out the front door in clown shoes might raise eyebrows." "We put them in the van. I drove the panel van. It's parked two blocks south, and it's empty." "Think of the wrap job alone. Half of those boxes probably have gift cards inside. Those are untraceable." Bill grinned and rubbed his hands together. "You beautiful thief. This is why I work with you." Molly pulled a pair of binoculars from inside her oversized red shoes and scanned the yard. A group of children chased each other near the bounce castle while a DJ spun a familiar pop song through cheap speakers. "Okay. I count the presents behind the sliding glass door, left side of the living room. Fourteen on the floor, maybe more on the table behind the couch." "What about the van keys?" Molly patted her pocket and jangled them. "Right here. You handle distraction, I handle extraction." "How am I distracting?" "Burst out of the backyard shed where you've been hiding and start leading a conga line." Bill stared at her. "You're joking." "Does it look like I'm joking?" He sighed and tightened his belt. "Conga line it is. But if anyone recognizes me, you're denying everything." "Deal. On my signal."