Run: 2026-09-23-01M37Q3904V7K6XW6Z0D7N07GG

Molly crouched behind the dumpster, binoculars pressed to her face, watching the bounce house inflate in the Hendersons' backyard. "Bill, I'm telling you, this is the score of a lifetime," she whispered. "Twenty kids, twenty presents. That's got to be at least two grand in toys alone." Bill peered over the fence, chewing on a toothpick. "Molly, they're children." "Exactly. Children can't press charges. Their tiny hands can't sign affidavits." "That's not how the law works." "It's how it should work." She lowered the binoculars. "Look, we've done banks, casinos, that weirdly aggressive farmers market. This is a cake walk. Literally. There's a cake." Bill sighed. "What's the plan, then? Walk in and grab a piñata?" "No, you imbecile, we blend in. I've got us costumes." She unzipped the duffel bag at her feet and pulled out two enormous foam costumes. "You're a pony. I'm a unicorn." Bill stared. "Why do you get to be the unicorn?" "Because I have the vision, Bill. Also, the pony suit has a tail that's already been through some things. Don't ask." "We're hiding inside animal costumes at a children's party." "We're infiltrating, Bill. It's tactical. Nobody questions a pony. Ponies are beloved. Ponies can wander freely near the present table." "And when a kid tries to ride you?" "Then you buck them gently into the kiddy pool. We're thieves, not monsters." Bill rubbed his temples. "Okay. Say we get in. Say we get to the presents. How do we get twenty boxes out of a backyard full of witnesses and one very alert grandmother?" Molly grinned and pulled a folded blueprint from her jacket. "The cake table is eight feet from the side gate. I've measured it. Twice. While the clown performs his big finale—which I have researched, it's a forty-five-second juggling disaster—we load the presents into the wheelbarrow I've hidden in the hydrangeas." "A wheelbarrow." "Stealth wheelbarrow, Bill. I spray-painted it green." "That's not stealth, that's just a green wheelbarrow." "Everything is stealthier in green. Ask any frog." She tapped the blueprint. "The getaway is the tricky part. We can't run in these costumes. Have you seen the legs on this thing? They're chenille." "So what, we waddle?" "We waddle with purpose. Confidence sells it. Nobody stops a confident unicorn." Bill stared at the fence, at the sound of children shrieking joyfully, and felt something die inside him. "Molly, I have one condition. We leave the birthday girl's present. She's turning seven. That's a rough age. You lose your first tooth, kids start having opinions about you." "Fine. We leave hers. We're stealing from children, Bill, not being monsters about it." "Also, if there's a bouncy castle, I get five minutes." "Bill." "Four minutes. It's negotiable down from my original ask of ten." Molly checked her watch. "The party starts in twenty minutes. Clown arrives at three. We go at 2:55, during the cake confusion." Bill wrestled the pony head over his own. His voice came out muffled. "How do I look?" "Like a felony waiting to happen. Perfect. Now waddle, partner. Operation Sugar Rush is a go." "Please never name another operation while hungry."