Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FZ5HWGDQF4KX6A8HAM46B5

Molly crouched behind the hedge, peering through the gap in the picket fence at the glowing backyard. Balloons bobbed against the porch. A banner read HAPPY SEVENTH BIRTHDAY, OLIVER! Stacked beside the patio table, wrapped in paper covered with rocket ships, sat a mountain of presents. Bill slid in beside her, holding a clipboard and a pair of oven mitts. "Status report." "Twelve adults, one clown, and a dog that looks like it eats socks for breakfast," Molly whispered. "The presents are unguarded. The mother is by the cake. The father is trying to inflate a bouncy castle with his mouth." "Excellent. And the escape route?" "The side gate. It squeaks, so we oil it first." She held up a small tin of lubricant. "I brought it for the occasion." Bill frowned at the clipboard. "Why do I have oven mitts?" "For the hot glue gun. We have to reseal the boxes so nobody notices they're empty." "Molly, we are not reselling birthday presents." "We are not reselling them. We are returning them to the wrong house. Very different." Bill sighed and scribbled something. "Fine. What about the clown?" "Leave the clown to me. I've got a rubber chicken and a plan involving a balloon animal." "You're going to bribe a clown with balloon animals?" "I'm going to distract him. Bribery is so harsh." A child's shriek split the night air. Both thieves froze. A small boy in a cardboard crown ran past the hedge, brandishing a plastic sword and yelling about dragons. Bill exhaled slowly. "Molly, that kid just looked straight at us." "Kids can't see us. We're professionals. We're wearing black." "You're wearing a pink tutu." "It's camouflage. Nobody expects a ballerina burglar." "Nobody expects a tutu at all." She adjusted the tutu proudly. "Go on, then. Gate first. I'll handle the clown." Bill crept toward the squeaking gate, oven mitts raised like a surrender. Molly tiptoed toward the presents, rehearsing her most menacing whisper. Behind them, the bouncy castle sighed, slumped, and collapsed onto the father with a squelch. "Oh no," Bill whispered. "That's our cue." "Run!" Molly hissed, grabbing the biggest box and sprinting for the gate, rocket-ship wrapping flapping behind her like a flag of surrender.