Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPHBA2Q25FMZ3NP6QYRP35

The back room of *The Tipsy Turtle* smelled like stale beer and regret, which was fitting, since that’s exactly what Molly and Bill were serving up tonight. Molly leaned against the pool table, chalking her cue with the kind of focus usually reserved for brain surgeons or people defusing bombs. Bill, meanwhile, was hunched over a napkin covered in what he insisted was a "foolproof schematic," though it looked more like a toddler’s attempt at modern art. "You’re telling me," Molly said, squinting at the napkin, "that your big plan involves a piñata?" Bill stabbed the napkin with his finger. "Not just *a* piñata. *The* piñata. The one shaped like a unicorn. It’s perfect." "Because unicorns are known for their stealth and cunning?" "Because it’s *hollow*, Molly. And it’s *big*. We cut a hole in the bottom, stuff all the presents inside, and walk out like we’re just two very enthusiastic party parents." Molly set down her cue. "You realize this is a *children’s* party, right? There will be, like, actual children there. And clowns. I hate clowns." Bill waved a hand. "Clowns are just adults who peaked in kindergarten. We’ll blend right in." "Oh, sure. Because nothing says ‘trustworthy adult’ like two grown people lurking near the gift table with a pair of scissors." Bill grinned. "Exactly. Who’d suspect the people *holding* the scissors?" Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "You’re forgetting one tiny detail. How do we even *get* the piñata?" "Easy. We distract the kids with a fake treasure hunt. You know, ‘Oh no, the presents have gone missing! Quick, follow the clues!’ Meanwhile, we’re in the corner, sawing away like a couple of very committed lumberjacks." Molly stared at him. "You want to send a bunch of five-year-olds on a wild goose chase while we commit grand theft piñata?" "Wild *unicorn* chase. And yes." She sighed. "You’re insane." Bill clapped his hands together. "Insanely brilliant. Now, here’s the real question—do you have a better plan?" Molly opened her mouth, then closed it. She drummed her fingers on the pool table. "Fine. But if we get arrested, I’m telling the cops you made me do it." Bill gasped, clutching his chest. "Molly! I’m wounded. I would *never* force you into a life of crime. I’d just guilt you into it. Big difference." She rolled her eyes. "What’s the move, then? We just waltz in there like we belong?" "Pretty much. I’ve got a cousin who works at the venue. We’re ‘volunteer party helpers.’" He made air quotes. "All we need are some name tags and the confidence of a man who’s never once doubted his life choices." Molly groaned. "I can’t believe I’m doing this." Bill grinned. "That’s the spirit. Now, let’s go over the exit strategy." "Oh, we have one of those?" "Of course. If things go south, we scream ‘FIRE!’ and bolt for the nearest ball pit." Molly blinked. "That’s your plan?" Bill shrugged. "Kids love ball pits. It’s like a built-in getaway car." She rubbed her temples. "I need a drink." Bill slid a beer across the table. "Already ahead of you. Cheers to the world’s most ridiculous heist." Molly clinked her bottle against his. "To the unicorn piñata. May it be as empty as your moral compass."