Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFVAT8BH8RTHMYGZP6XZM7

Molly crouched behind the oversized clown nose, eyeballing the bouncy castle that had been transformed into a glittering present stack. The neighborhood's annual kids' carnival was in full swing, with streamers cutting the sky and a troupe of magician assistants juggling glitter bombs. In the background, a piped in soundtrack of cartoon theme songs threatened to drown out any suspicious rustle. She whispered to Bill, who was pretending to be a parent chaperone with a clipboard and a suspicious amount of glitter on his shirt. Molly: "First, we need to figure out where the present table is hidden. The kids are currently occupied with a puppet show, so we have maybe fifteen minutes." Bill: "I've already scouted. It's behind the giant inflatable giraffe, next to the cotton candy stand. I also spotted a security guard who looks like he's more interested in his phone than the candy." Molly: "Perfect. We'll pose as the entertainment. I'll be the clown who can inflate balloons into shapes, and you can be the magician with the hat." Bill: "I brought a bag of 'trick' confetti that actually emits a harmless smoke screen. We'll need a signal to coordinate the switch." Molly: "How about we use the phrase 'pie for the birthday boy' as our cue. When the DJ announces it, we make our move." Bill: "Deal. And if any kid asks for a balloon animal, just hand them a regular balloon and walk away." Molly: "Exactly. Let's practice our innocent laugh. We want to sound like parents, not criminals." Bill: "I can do a giggle that sounds like a squeaky toy. Ready?" Molly: "Ready. And remember, no matter how cute the presents look, we stick to the plan. No sticky fingers." Bill: "No sticky fingers. Except maybe a sample chocolate." Bill: "After we grab the loot, we slip out through the exit behind the cotton candy stand. And clean." Molly: "And if anyone asks why we're carrying a sack of gifts, we say it's for a drive. Easy peasy." The plan was absurd enough to sound like a cartoon caper, but Molly had a habit of turning childish chaos into cash. She imagined the children’s faces when the presents vanished, their eyes wide as saucers, while she and Bill vanished into the crowd with sacks full of toys. Bill Practiced his innocent smile in the reflection of a soda can, adjusting his fake mustache so it wouldn't slip. The DJ’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, announcing the birthday boy’s name and promising a cake that was taller than most toddlers. The air smelled of sugar, popcorn, and cheap perfume, a mixture that made Bill’s stomach rumble, but his mind stayed focused on the prize. With the clock ticking, they shuffled toward the gift table, the balloons bobbing like eager spectators. They exchanged a quick nod, the kind that only partners who've stolen candy from a kindergarten can understand, and stepped toward the glittering table, ready to execute the most whimsical heist of the season.