Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFQC4G0F5VQ9YMGAMQ9P17

Molly perched on the cracked windowsill of the community hall, the neon sign flickering 'Happy Birthday' in pink. Bill crouched beside her, his backpack stuffed with glittery wrappers and a roll of duct tape. "Alright, Molly, what's the plan? The clown's already juggling, the kids are screaming, and the presents are stacked like a pyramid behind the bounce house." Molly grinned, her eyes scanning the decorations, a plastic unicorn balloon bobbing above the table of cake. "We slip in with the cake crew, claim we're the entertainment, and when the music hits the bass, we swap the gift pile for our empty bags." "But the parents are glued to the selfie station, and the security guard is busy taking a photo with a toddler in a dinosaur costume." "Exactly, we use the toddler as a decoy. He waddles toward the presents, we follow, and when the adults cheer, we make our move." "I can't believe I'm about to steal a pile of toys from a bunch of five‑year‑olds. This is either genius or the start of a very awkward therapy session." Molly pulled a bright pink cape from her bag, the kind a superhero would wear to a birthday party, and draped it over her shoulders with a theatrical flourish. "You, my friend, are going to be the distraction. Walk in like you're the magician, pull a rabbit out of your hat—except the rabbit is a bag of loot." "Fine, but if the kids start crying, I'm blaming you." The hall erupted in a chorus of 'Happy Birthday,' the balloons swayed, and a giant inflatable dinosaur loomed over the gift table, its jaws open wide, ready to swallow the loot. Molly glanced at her watch, the digital display blinking 7:42. The party was set to end at eight, which meant they had exactly eighteen minutes to pull off the greatest toy heist in preschool history. "Eighteen minutes? That's barely enough time to tie my shoes, let alone empty a mountain of presents." Molly smirked, produced a small remote from her pocket, and pressed a button. A soft whirr emitted from the nearby karaoke machine, and the lyrics to 'Let It Go' began to scroll across a giant screen, instantly capturing the attention of every parent. "When the crowd starts singing, we make our move. You head left, I'll head right, and we meet at the cake." "Sounds like a plan, except I'm not sure I can carry a cake and a bag of stolen toys at the same time without looking like a walking pastry." Molly rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a laugh. She tossed Bill a tiny, collapsible duffel, the kind magicians use to pull endless scarves from, and whispered, 'We'll make it look like a magic trick.' "If we get caught, I'm telling them it's an art project." "Ready, set, go!" The music swelled, the crowd roared, and Molly and Bill vanished with a mountain of toys, leaving behind only glittering wrappers and bewildered parents for later.