Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5NF2S48TDPC886JQCA28X

**Scene: The Backroom of a Dingy Diner** The flickering neon light from the diner’s sign cast eerie shadows across the sticky table where Molly and Bill hunched over a crumpled napkin sketch of their next big score. The scent of burnt coffee and stale fries lingered in the air. Molly tapped the napkin with a chipped nail. “Okay, genius, explain to me again why we’re robbing a six-year-old’s birthday party.” Bill grinned, adjusting his sunglasses—indoors, at night, because *style*. “Think about it, Moll. Kids’ parties are *goldmines*. Parents go nuts buying iPads, gaming consoles, those weird robot dogs—” “You mean the ones that pee on carpets?” “Exactly! And security? Practically nonexistent. One guy in a clown suit who’s probably drunk.” Molly sighed. “Or high.” “Even better.” Bill leaned in. “Here’s the plan: you go in disguised as the magician they hired—” “I don’t know magic!” “Neither do they! Just wave a wand, say ‘abracadabra,’ and if something catches fire, blame the kid with the juice box.” Molly rubbed her temples. “And what’s *your* role in this disaster?” “I’ll be the piñata.” She blinked. “The *what*?” Bill pulled out a lumpy, glitter-covered costume from his bag. “Nobody suspects the piñata. I’ll just wobble around, ‘accidentally’ bump into the gift table, and—” “And what, swallow the presents whole?” “No, I’ll have a hidden compartment. Look—” He unzipped the piñata’s back, revealing a suspiciously large hollow space. Molly stared. “That’s not a compartment, that’s a felony waiting to happen.” “Relax! By the time they realize the gifts are gone, we’ll be halfway to Mexico.” “With a piñata full of action figures and finger paints.” Bill shrugged. “Resale value’s killer.” Molly groaned. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling the cops this was *all* your idea.” “Deal.” Bill clapped his hands. “Operation: Pinata Heist is a go!” Molly muttered, “We’re gonna die.” Bill adjusted his sunglasses again. “Worth it.”