Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7TH2PFKV401RXJ01H14VX

Molly and Bill hunched over a greasy diner table, surrounded by crayon-scribbled blueprints of the Peterson estate's backyard bash. A half-eaten cupcake mocked them from a napkin, crumbs forming a tiny crime scene. "Picture it," Molly hissed, jabbing a pinky nail at the piñata diagram. "We crash as party entertainers. You’re the magician, I’m the face painter. Presents pile up like loot piñatas begging to burst." Bill chortled, his walrus mustache twitching. "Genius! Kids scream, parents booze—chaos cover. We stuff sacks under the bounce house, vanish in a puff of glitter." Molly sketched escape routes: bounce house tunnel to the clown car parked curbside. "Timing’s key. Hit at cake-cutting frenzy. Hypno-twirl the kiddos with balloon swords while you sleight-of-hand the gift table." Bill nodded, forking imaginary cake. "What if rugrats cling? Offer ’em candy bribes from the piñata guts!" She grinned wickedly. "Perfect diversion. Load up Barbies, bikes, Lego forts—fence ’em for holiday hush money." They clinked coffee mugs, visions of velvet gift bags dancing like sugarplum fairies. Outside, minivans converged on balloon arches. The heist clock ticked: zero hour, 2 p.m. sharp. Chaos awaited, wrapped in shiny paper.