Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPSMKKCV4CDBCW1YV7Y07W

Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses and leaned against the fence, eyeing the brightly decorated backyard. "You ever seen so much pink in one place? It’s like a unicorn exploded." Bill scratched his chin, squinting at the streamers. "Focus, Molly. We’re here for the loot, not the aesthetic. Those presents under the cake table? That’s our retirement fund." Molly smirked. "Retirement? Bill, we’re stealing from kids. That’s not a pension, that’s a moral bankruptcy." "Oh, spare me the guilt. These parents are loaded. Their kids won’t even miss half of it. Besides, we’re doing them a favor. Less clutter." Molly snorted. "Right. And the clown’s not gonna notice us stuffing toys into our pockets?" Bill pulled out a whoopee cushion. "Relax. I’ve got a distraction. Classic comedy gold." Molly groaned. "You’re using a whoopee cushion as a diversion? We’re robbing a party, not auditioning for a circus." "Trust me. Kids love fart noises. It’s science." Molly sighed. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you. And I’m telling them you’re my weird uncle." Bill grinned. "Deal. Now let’s go make some memories—preferably ones that don’t involve jail."