Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK16NB5HBTY5X9EGM3VZFMC

"Bill, stop chewing on the floor plan. It tastes like crayon and despair." "It's a wax-based architectural schematic, Molly. Very high tech. Besides, we need to know where the snack table is. I can't work on an empty stomach." "The snack table is irrelevant. The target is the gift pile. Specifically, the mountain of wrapped boxes under the 'Happy 7th Birthday' banner. We hit it, we grab the loot, we vanish before the clown finishes his balloon animal routine." "A clown? You didn't mention a clown. Clowns are unpredictable, Molly. They have tiny cars and hidden pockets. What if he sees us?" "He won't see us because we'll be wearing these." Molly tossed a pair of oversized, fuzzy animal ears at Bill. "We blend in as party guests. Parents never suspect other parents. Especially not parents wearing bunny ears." "These are kitten ears. And they itch. Why can't we just wear black like normal criminals?" "Because it's a children's party, Bill! Black stands out. Pastels are the new camouflage. Now, look at the timeline. The cake cutting happens at four. That's our window. While everyone is singing and the parents are fighting over who gets the first slice, we dive behind the sofa, roll the presents into our stroller, and exit stage left." "A stroller? You want me to push a stolen-goods stroller?" "It's a double stroller, Bill. High capacity. We load it up with LEGOs, video games, and whatever cash stuffs inside those greeting cards. Do you have any idea how much money people put in cards these days? It's basically an unregulated bank vault filled with twenty-dollar bills and checks made out to 'Tyler'." "Tyler has a nice ring to it. But what about the security? Surely a seven-year-old's birthday has tight security." "The security is a golden retriever named Barnaby and a teenage babysitter named Chloe who will be glued to her phone. Barnaby is easily distracted by squeaky toys. I've got three in my pocket. Chloe is easily distracted by anything that isn't her screen. We are ghosts, Bill. Ghosts in kitten ears." "I still don't like the ears. What if the clown tries to make us a balloon sword? I can't hold a loot bag and a balloon sword." "Then you drop the sword. Priorities, Bill. The loot comes first. Remember the last job? The charity gala? We walked out with three hundred dollars worth of silent auction baskets because you got distracted by the mini-quiches." "That quiche was exceptional, and you know it. But fine. Kitten ears it is. What's the exit strategy if Barnaby starts barking?" "Plan B. We unleash the ultimate weapon." Molly reached into her backpack and pulled out a large, plastic wand topped with a glittery star. "The Bubble Machine. We activate it, the kids go crazy chasing bubbles, chaos ensues, and we slip out the side door while the clown tries to pop them all." "You brought a bubble machine to a heist?" "It's a distraction device, Bill. Don't knock it until you've seen a hundred sugar-rushed kids chase soap spheres into a wall. It's beautiful chaos. Now, put on the ears. We rehearse the waddle. Parents don't walk; they waddle under the weight of societal expectations and oversized gift bags." "This is the dumbest plan we've ever had." "It's brilliant. Now waddle, Bill. Waddle like you haven't slept in three days and you're holding a lukewarm juice box." "I hate this. But I do love LEGOs." "That's the spirit. Let's go steal a childhood."