Run: 2026-09-23-01M36VK90YG559ZANVT0SKR5FC

Molly and Bill crouched behind a hedge outside the suburban house, peering through the window at a riot of balloons and crepe paper. "Molly, I feel like a monster," Bill whispered. "You're not a monster, Bill. You're a professional. Now, how many kids are we dealing with?" "Six. Maybe seven. One keeps wandering into the garden." "Good. That's a scout we can distract." "They're four years old, Molly. They're already distracted." Molly pulled out a crumpled napkin with notes scrawled in blue pen. "Here's the plan. You go in the back door during the singing. Musical chairs. It's chaos. Nobody watches the door during musical chairs." "Why musical chairs?" "Because every child is focused on not losing, and every parent is focused on not letting their kid cry. It's our window." Bill shifted his weight, peeking again. "I don't know, Moll. This feels different from bank jobs." "How so?" "Banks don't have balloon animals." "Actually, you're wrong. We once stole from a bank that had a new branch opening. Balloon animals everywhere. Excellent distraction, terrible free rubber chicken." "That wasn't you. That was the Jenkins twins." "We don't speak of the Jenkins twins," Molly said sharply. "Now, what about the guard dogs?" "There's a golden retriever." "That's not a guard dog. That's a rug with a tail." "A very friendly rug." "Perfect. You bribe it with a sausage roll. I've got three in my jacket." "Why do you have sausage rolls in your jacket?" "Emergency planning, Bill. You should try it." Bill stood up and brushed gravel from his knees. "Alright. I go in during musical chairs, I grab the big bag of gifts from the corner near the cake table, and I come out the back." "Yes. But first you swap out the big bag for this bag." Molly held up a bag identical in size but filled with rocks and old textbooks. "Why swap it?" "Because little Timmy will look under the table and think his presents are still there. He won't cry. If he cries, Mrs. Henderson screams. If Mrs. Henderson screams, the entire party converges on us like furious glitter-covered locusts." Bill nodded slowly. "So we're saving children from tears." "We're saving ourselves from locusts. The tears are incidental. Now, timing. How long do you need?" "Four minutes?" "You'll need three. Musical chairs lasts three songs. After that they'll do pass the parcel and the sound of ripping paper will cover your exit." "You've really thought about this." "I always think about this. It's my greatest gift. Now get that sausage roll ready. The dog's making eyes at us." The golden retriever trotted over with a hopeful wag. "It's actually kind of cute," Bill admitted. "Don't get attached. We work fast, we work clean, and nobody goes home empty-handed except us. Loaded." Molly grinned. "Ready?" "Ready." "Together." "Always." They slipped around the corner of the house, two shadows against the warm glow of a house that had no idea what was coming.