Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFWHR10KYGCNQTPPKYQGWE

Molly leanedagainst the fence, squinting at the backyard party. "Look at that, Bill. Pure gold. Kids everywhere, parents too busy sipping punch to notice a thing. And the presents! Stacked like a pyramid of loot." Bill adjusted his glasses, peering through his binoculars. "Molly, this is a children's birthday party. The 'loot' is wrapped in shiny paper and tied with ribbons. The 'parents' are... well, parents. They're not exactly the hardened criminals we usually deal with." "Exactly!" Molly grinned, her eyes gleaming. "That's the beauty of it. They won't expect us. We waltz in, grab the presents, and waltz out. Easy as pie." "Easy as pie?" Bill sighed. "Molly, stealing presents from a kids' party is like trying to rob a bank full of toddlers. They scream, they cry, they might even bite. And the parents? They'll be on us faster than you can say 'security guard'." "Security guard?" Molly scoffed. "This is a suburban backyard. The biggest threat is probably the neighbor's yappy dog. We'll be in and out before anyone knows we were there. Plan: ladder, distraction, grab, run." "Distraction?" Bill frowned. "What kind of distraction? A balloon animal? A magic trick? Because I'm not sure my 'magic trick' involves pulling a rabbit out of a hat... or a stolen Elmo doll." Molly tapped her chin. "The cake. We distract them with the cake. Bill, you're the smooth talker. You go over, 'Excuse me, lovely people, is that cake gluten-free? My sensitive stomach...' Meanwhile, I scale the fence with the ladder. We grab the presents, dump them in the van, and you create a diversion with the cake. Simple." Bill rubbed his temples. "Molly, the cake is on a table. It's not a weapon. And 'sensitive stomach'? That's not a distraction, that's a lie. And what about the kids? They'll see us. They'll tell their parents. It's a disaster waiting to happen." "Kids?" Molly waved a dismissive hand. "They're just noise. We'll be gone before they can even point. Focus, Bill. The presents are the target. The rest is... background noise." Bill looked at the scene again. Kids were building a wobbly block tower. A toddler was trying to hug a giant teddy bear. Parents were laughing, clapping. "Molly, this is insane. We're going to get caught. We're going to get beaten up. We're going to get sued for traumatizing a generation of children." Molly grinned, already moving towards the ladder. "That's the spirit, Bill! Let's go make our mark on the world... of petty theft. After this, we can retire to a beach somewhere. No more armored trucks, just us and the sound of waves. And maybe a nice, quiet library." Bill groaned, following her reluctantly. "Just remember, Molly, if we get caught, it's your 'sensitive stomach' lie that got us into this mess. And I'm holding you responsible for the cost of therapy for every traumatized child in this neighborhood." Molly winked. "Deal. Now, let's make this the heist of the century... or at least the most ridiculous one." She started hauling the ladder towards the fence. Bill trailed behind, muttering about insurance claims and restraining orders.