Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DAJQCG1KKMTZ56Q2N04XVS

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through the gap in the fence at the glowing windows of the Henderson house. Balloons bobbed against the porch railing. A banner read HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, OLIVER! "Right," Bill whispered, adjusting the ski mask that kept slipping over his nose. "Phase one. We wait for the clown to finish the magic trick." "We've been waiting twenty minutes, Bill. My knees are going numb." "Patience is a virtue, Molly. Also, a crucial element of the plan." "The plan is to steal forty presents from seven-year-olds." "Not steal, *liberate*. Think of it as redistribution. Oliver already has a drum kit. He does not need a second drum kit." Molly sighed and checked the sack slung over her shoulder. "Fine. What's phase two?" "Phase two, we slip through the side door. Lenny the dog walker left it propped open with a juice box." "You're telling me our entire operation depends on a juice box?" "Don't underestimate the juice box, Molly. It's been very reliable." They crept across the lawn, staying low, and reached the side door. Inside, a chorus of kids shrieked with laughter. Bill froze. "Wait. Do you hear that?" "That's a sugar rush, Bill. It's contagious." "No, that's a lot of tiny feet. I think somebody's coming." A small face appeared in the doorway, holding a half-eaten cupcake. It was a girl in a purple tutu, frosting smeared across her cheeks. She stared at them. They stared back. "Are you the robbers?" she asked. Bill straightened. "No, we are... party guests. Very late party guests." "You're wearing masks." "It's a themed party," Molly said quickly. "Superheroes. We're the Ski Mask Avengers." The girl considered this. "Okay. Oliver's in the kitchen. He's hiding the good presents under the stairs." Bill's eyes lit up. "Is he? Is that so?" "Don't tell him I told you," she said, and skipped away. Molly groaned. "Bill, we are getting outsmarted by a child in a tutu." "Outsmarted, nothing. We have intel. Under the stairs, Molly! Let's move." They tiptoed into the hallway, dodging a stray balloon. Behind a sofa, they found a pile of gift bags, and Bill was already reaching for the biggest one when a voice boomed from the kitchen. "DAD! THE ROBBERS ARE HERE!" Bill dropped the bag. Molly grabbed his sleeve. "Run!" "Which way?" "Any way that isn't toward the cake!" They bolted out the side door, Bill tripping over the juice box on the way. Behind them, a dozen tiny voices cheered, and somewhere a dog started barking. "Next time," Molly panted, "we're robbing a retirement home."