Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRE91DQCZBXRRH009PW51Q

The warehouse smelled of stale pizza and cheap incense. A cardboard box labeled “Birthday Bash – 8am” sat in the corner, its flaps half‑open. Molly leaned over a crumpled flyer, eyes scanning the pastel balloons drawn on it. Bill paced, tapping his foot, a grin tugging at his mouth. Molly: “So, the party’s at the community center, right? Kids, clowns, a cake that looks like a unicorn.” Bill: “Exactly. And the presents are stacked in a room behind the bounce house. No security, just a volunteer with a clipboard.” Molly: “What’s the entry point?” Bill: “The side door. The one with the broken lock. I can pick it in under a minute.” Molly: “And the alarm?” Bill: “There’s no alarm. Just a squeaky gate that squeals when you pull it. I’ll bring a rubber duck to muffle it.” Molly: “A rubber duck?” Bill: “Works every time. Kids love ducks, and the sound is… well, less conspicuous than a metal clang.” Molly: “Alright, what’s the plan for the presents?” Bill: “We go in, grab the gift table, load the sacks, and exit through the same door. No one will notice until the kids open them.” Molly: “And the cake?” Bill: “We leave it. It’s a distraction; the kids will be busy with frosting. Plus, we’ll get a free slice if we’re lucky.” Molly: “Do we need any disguises?” Bill: “Just the usual. I’ll wear a fake mustache, you bring a party hat. We’ll blend in with the parents.” Molly: “A party hat? That’s… ridiculous.” Bill: “Ridiculous is the point. No one expects thieves in party hats.” Molly: “What about the kids?” Bill: “We’ll keep our distance, stay in the shadows, and move like ninjas. Kids are too busy with candy to notice.” Molly: “And the volunteers?” Bill: “They’ll be busy handing out goody bags. I’ll slip a bag of our own loot into the pile.” Molly: “Sounds solid. Anything else?” Bill: “Just one thing: we need a getaway car. I’ve got a van with a painted ‘Happy Birthday’ sign. It’ll look like a party bus.” Molly: “Perfect. Let’s do it.” Bill: “Ready when you are.” Molly: “Let’s grab those presents and make the kids wonder why Santa skipped their house.” Bill: “And we’ll be the only ones who get the toys.” Molly: “To the van!” Bill: “To the van!” The two laughed, their voices echoing off the concrete, as they slipped the flyer into a pocket and vanished into the night, leaving the cardboard box fluttering like a forgotten balloon. The van idled in the alley, its headlights flickering like a faulty Christmas tree. Inside, the loot was piled high, wrapped in bright paper that crinkled with every turn. Molly tossed a leftover balloon into the trunk, and Bill laughed, the sound echoing off the brick walls as they drove away, the night swallowing their laughter. “Think we’ll get away with this?” “If the kids don’t notice, we’ll be legends.” “Legends of the birthday heist.” “Exactly.” As dawn painted sky pink, van slipped away, its tires humming a lullaby for city that slept. Party hall remained, presents gone, and children would wake to mystery that no one could solve.