Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5ZB9NX4ZD213K3YGM8YGT

The van smelled of stale coffee and regret. Molly spread a hand-drawn map across the steering wheel, her eyes gleaming with predatory focus. Bill, slumped in the passenger seat, nibbled on a cookie shaped like a dinosaur. “This is the most undignified job we’ve ever considered,” he mumbled, crumbs tumbling onto his shirt. “Dignity is for people who can afford mortgages,” Molly said, not looking up. “Now, focus. The target is a seven-year-old’s birthday party at 1124 Maple Drive. Saturday, three PM. The loot will be concentrated in the living room, near the piñata.” “A piñata? What’s the contingency if we’re bludgeoned by a rainbow donkey filled with candy?” “We’ll avoid the donkey. The real issue is the security.” Bill snorted. “Security? It’s a kid’s party. The biggest threat is a sugar-crazed toddler with a plastic sword.” “Wrong.” Molly tapped the map. “The homeowner, one Mr. Henderson, is a former mall Santa. He’s vigilant, and he’s installed a state-of-the-art home security system. Motion sensors, cameras, the works.” “So we bypass it. You’re the tech genius. What’s the plan?” Molly smiled. “We don’t bypass it. We become part of the party. I’ve procured costumes.” She reached behind her and tossed a bundle of fabric at Bill. It unfurled into a giant, fuzzy banana costume. Bill stared. “I’m not wearing this.” “You’re the banana. I’m the gorilla. It’s a classic duo. We’ll arrive as the hired entertainment, blend in, and during the chaotic ‘musical fruits’ game, we’ll empty the present table into our oversized costume pockets.” “Musical fruits? That’s not a real game.” “It will be when we start it.” Molly’s tone was unwavering. “The children will be distracted. The parents will be grateful for five minutes of peace. We’ll be in and out before the cake is cut.” Bill sighed, examining the banana costume. “The pockets are big enough?” “They’re cavernous. We can fit approximately twenty-seven action figures, fifteen building sets, and an assortment of gift cards. The estimated haul is six hundred dollars, minimum.” “And the moral weight of stealing from children?” “We’re not stealing from children, Bill. We’re liberating toys from the tyranny of excessive gift-giving. It’s a social commentary. Now, practice your peel.” Bill struggled into the costume, his head emerging from the stem. “I feel ridiculous. What if someone recognizes us?” “Who’s going to recognize a six-foot banana? Besides, we’ll be gone before the real entertainment arrives.” “Which is?” “A magician named The Great Zamboni. His reviews say he’s mostly allergic to his own doves. It’ll be a perfect diversion.” Bill adjusted his banana head. “Okay, but if we get caught, I’m telling them this was all your idea.” “Noted. Now, let’s run through the timing again. At 3:15, the gorilla distracts the former Santa with a compelling interpretive dance about jungle conservation, while the banana will sidle up to the present table. Use the ‘slippery peel’ maneuver if approached. Just drop to the floor and wriggle. No one questions a distressed fruit.” Bill’s voice was muffled from inside the costume. “I have a question. What if I need to use the bathroom?” “Hydrate minimally. This is a heist, not a spa day. Remember, we’re professionals.” “Professionals dressed as produce.” Bill sighed again, a sound like a deflating balloon. “Fine. But I want a bigger cut for wearing the banana. It’s clearly the more demanding role.” “The gorilla has to perform the dance. It’s a trade-off. Now, one more thing.” Molly produced a small walkie-talkie. “We’ll communicate via these. Code names: I’m King Kong, you’re… Yellow.” “Creative. Just promise me one thing.” “What?” “If this goes south, we don’t end up as a viral video. ‘Banana and Gorilla Arrested at Kids’ Party.’ My mother would never let me hear the end of it.” Molly patted his fuzzy shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s go over the exit strategy. After the grab, we meet at the van, shed the costumes, and drive away calmly. We celebrate with actual fruit salad.” “I hate fruit salad.” “It’s ironic. Now, focus.” Bill muttered about career choices, but he studied the map, his banana head nodding slowly. The plan was absurd, but it was theirs, and for better or worse, they were committed.