Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAGSST8Y2T1KJSTAZJDTKF

The back booth of Lefty's Diner smelled of burnt coffee and bad decisions, which suited Molly and Bill just fine. Bill unrolled a blueprint across the sticky table and pinned the corners with a ketchup bottle, a sugar dispenser, and a stapler he had clearly borrowed without asking. "Party starts at two," Molly said, tapping the map with a french fry. "Birthday party for a seven-year-old named Brayden. The hall is on Elm Street, the back window is unlocked, and there are forty-two presents stacked by the piano." "Forty-two," Bill whispered, his eyes glowing. "Molly, that's a lot of Lego." "It's a lot of everything. Bikes, trains, one suspicious box that says 'Do Not Open Until Christmas.'" "Why would anyone do that to a kid?" "Focus, Bill. Phase one: the clown." "We're not using the clown again." "The clown is essential. Nobody looks twice at a clown carrying a sack." Bill frowned and crossed his arms. "Last time the clown got a cramp and sat on the goldfish." "That was a rough day for the goldfish. Phase two: the bouncy castle. We pop the side flap, let the kids spill out, and while the parents are chasing them back inside, we slip through the kitchen." Outside, a delivery truck rumbled past, rattling the windows. Molly didn't flinch. She had once robbed a jewelry store during a fire drill and walked out with a diamond necklace tucked inside a cereal box. "And the parents?" Bill asked. "Parents are the easy part. Give them a tray of cupcakes and they'll tell you anything. Ask about their mortgage and they'll cry." Bill scribbled furiously on a napkin. "I've got a problem. The vent above the presents is too small." "So we go through the front door like civilized criminals. Wrapping paper hides everything." "And if somebody sees us?" Molly pulled two plastic party hats from her jacket and set one on Bill's head. It was purple and slightly crushed. He looked like a deflated eggplant. "Then we say we're uncles." "We don't look like uncles." "Nobody looks like an uncle, Bill. That's what makes it work." He sighed and straightened the hat. "Fine. What do we do with the presents once we've got them?" "We sell them at the flea market on Saturday. Half price, no receipts. Everybody loves a bargain." Bill paused, the napkin going still in his hand. "Molly, are we the bad guys?" She considered the question seriously, tapping her chin. "We're the bad guys with a ninety percent success rate and a getaway van with a working radio. That's the best kind." "Ninety percent?" "The other ten percent is mostly the clown." Bill grinned, pulled a pair of novelty rubber masks from his coat pocket, and slid one across the table. It depicted a smiling cartoon giraffe. "Then let's go steal some birthdays." Molly slipped on her giraffe, adjusted the ears, and stood up. Behind the counter, the waitress shrugged and went back to her crossword. Nobody at Lefty's ever asked questions. That was why they came back every Thursday.