Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKS0T5PTHBCF47ZR7XD8MM5

The warehouse was a makeshift headquarters, a cramped space littered with half‑eaten pizza boxes and a busted karaoke machine that still crooned “Happy Birthday” off‑key. Light filtered through a cracked window, casting a neon glow on the map of the community center pinned to the wall. Molly spread a crayon‑drawn floor plan across a dented metal table, her finger tracing the route to the party room. “Okay, Bill, the kids are going to be five to six years old, right?” Molly asked, her voice barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator. “Yeah, they’ll be in their dinosaur onesies and superhero capes. The cake will be a dinosaur shaped thing, and the presents will be stacked in a pile near the big inflatable castle,” Bill replied, tapping his chin with a screwdriver. Molly smirked. “We need a distraction that doesn’t involve a fire alarm. Something that makes the parents think the clown is a prank.” Bill’s eyes lit up. “What about a fake ‘balloon animal’ that pops and releases a cloud of glitter? Kids love glitter, parents hate cleaning it up.” Molly nodded. “Perfect. I’ll rig the balloon dispenser near the entrance. When the clown blows the first balloon, it’ll burst and the glitter will drift into the hallway, forcing everyone to chase it.” Bill laughed. “And while they’re busy chasing sparkles, we slip in, grab the gift pile, and slip out before anyone notices the missing toys.” Molly glanced at the clock. “The party starts at seven. We have thirty minutes to set up, then ten minutes to execute before the cake cutting.” Bill checked his watch. “I’ll bring the portable vacuum to suck up the glitter after we’re done. No trace left behind.” Molly pulled a small sack from her bag. “This is the ‘gift bag’—it’s got a hidden compartment for the loot. We’ll dump the presents in there and make it look like the kids’ own stash.” Bill grinned. “And we’ll leave a note that says ‘Sorry, Santa’s elves went on strike.’ That’ll keep the parents from blaming us.” Molly laughed, the sound echoing off the concrete. “If we get caught, we can always claim we were hired by the clown to test his balloon safety.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “Do you think the clown will believe that?” Molly shrugged. “He’ll believe anything if it comes with free cake.” The two of them practiced their sneaky steps, tiptoeing around the cardboard boxes, rehearsing the timing of the glitter explosion. The plan felt absurd, but the thrill of stealing a mountain of toys made every absurd detail deliciously exciting. The night grew deeper, the city’s lights flickering like a disco ball. Molly and Bill exchanged a conspiratorial grin, their hands clasping the sack as if it were a treasure chest. The party was about to begin, and the thieves were ready to crash it with a burst of glitter and a sack full of presents. They slipped into the night, their pockets already jingling with stolen joy.