Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7XH410GVHRSXDBCYCY8BG

Molly and Bill huddled in their dingy van, parked across from the suburban mansion pulsing with balloon arches and squealing kids. A crumpled invitation fluttered on the dashboard: "Timmy's 7th Birthday Extravaganza!" "Bill, it's perfect," Molly whispered, eyes gleaming. "Two hundred screaming rugrats, distracted by cake and clowns. We slip in as caterers, stuff presents into duffel bags, vanish before piñata time." Bill scratched his stubbled chin, sweating. "Caterers? Molly, I burn water! What if a kid asks for juice? Or worse, hugs me?" "Act natural, dummy. 'Here ya go, sport!' Grab the Lego sets, Barbies—easy ten grand resale. Parents too drunk on punch to notice." "But the birthday boy? Little Timmy with his puppy-dog eyes? He'll wail when his Xbox is gone!" Molly smirked, sketching a floor plan. "We'll leave him a balloon animal. Or blame the dog. In at 2 PM sharp, out by 2:15. Fellas on lookout in the ice cream truck." Bill gulped. "Ice cream truck? We're pros, not preschool pirates!" "Pros adapt, Bill. Candy ransom if needed. Now, rehearse: 'Happy birthday, kiddo—mind if I borrow your drone?'" Bill groaned. "This heist's nuts. But hell, those presents are calling my name." They clinked coffee mugs, plotting their pint-sized payday.