Run: 2026-10-06-01M48W36ZAJEWS8Y0Z8XGS9PDE

Molly spread the party invitations across the kitchen table like a deck of cards, each one featuring a grinning cartoon dinosaur wearing a party hat. "Bill, I'm telling you, this is the score of the century. Three hundred kids. Three hundred presents. Do you know how many LEGO sets that is?" Bill leaned against the counter, arms crossed, studying the invitation for the Henderson boy's seventh birthday. "It's a children's party, Molly. We're talking about seven-year-olds. They have sticky fingers and zero concept of personal space. One of them will hug your leg and you'll be trapped for twenty minutes while the clown does magic tricks." "Exactly!" Molly grabbed a highlighter and circled the address. "Distraction. Chaos. The perfect cover. While they're all eating cake and watching some guy pull a rabbit out of a hat, we slip in through the garage, load up the SUV, and vanish into the suburbs." Bill picked up an invitation and sniffed it. "It smells like grape juice and desperation." "That's opportunity, Bill. Pure, uncut opportunity." Molly pulled out a spiral notebook filled with hand-drawn diagrams. "I've mapped the house. Two-car garage with a side door that only has a deadbolt. The presents will be stacked in the living room near the fireplace. We go in at 2:15, right when the piñata starts. The noise will cover any sounds." "And if a kid sees us?" Molly tapped her temple. "We wear disguises." "As what? Parents?" "Better." She reached into her bag and pulled out two oversized mascot costumes—a purple dragon and a yellow chicken. "We blend right in. Nobody questions a seven-foot dragon at a kids' party. We waddle around, maybe do a little dance, and nobody suspects a thing." Bill stared at the costumes. "You bought these?" "I rented them. Three hundred dollars for the weekend. Worth every penny." Molly beamed. "Think about it, Bill. We've hit banks, museums, one very poorly guarded casino. But this? This is art. We're not just stealing presents. We're stealing childhood wonder. We're the grinch before the grinch had a heart." "That's not—" Bill started. "Don't say it. I know what you're going to say." Molly held up a hand. "Yes, it's morally questionable. Yes, we'll probably get glitter on everything we own for the next six months. But Bill, those presents are going to be opened in three hours and forgotten by Christmas. We're giving them a second life. We're redistributing wealth to people who actually need LEGO bricks." Bill was quiet for a moment. Then he reached for the chicken costume and began unzipping it. "The garage door. You said it only has a deadbolt?" "Standard Kwikset. I can pick it in forty seconds." "And the alarm system?" Molly grinned. "The Hendersons think a $30 ADT sticker on the window is enough. I checked their trash last week. They don't even have a real security system. Just the sticker." Bill pulled the chicken head over his own, muffled. "This smells like old popcorn and broken dreams." "Everything smells like that when you're a professional, Bill." Molly grabbed the dragon head and placed it on her own, her voice suddenly booming and ridiculous. "MOLLY THE MAGNIFICENT DRAGON IS READY TO PARTY!" Bill laughed, a sound like a deflating whoopee cushion. "You sound terrifying." "Good. Terrifying is memorable. Nobody forgets the dragon who stole their birthday presents." Molly waddled toward the door, the costume making her movements awkward and endearing. "Meet me at the Hendersons at 1:45. Bring the van. And Bill?" She turned, the dragon head swiveling with her. "Don't eat any of the cake. I saw the photos from last year. That woman makes it herself. It's... aggressive." Bill followed her out, the chicken costume rustling behind. "Molly?" "Yeah?" "If we get caught, I'm blaming you for everything." "Of course you are." The dragon waddled into the afternoon sun, already practicing its party dance. "That's what partners are for!"