Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7YBSV3VETKTYNVYPSZJNR

Molly leans against a dented fire hydrant across from the blaring community center party, Bill jiggling a plastic lockpicking set in his pocket. “You sure the presents are stashed in the back supply closet?” “Dead sure—my cousin’s kid texted me mid-party rant, swore they’re all hidden there behind craft paper rolls.” “Kids’ unfiltered rants are heist gold. You got the distraction sorted?” “Squirrel costume with a whoopee cushion sewn to the tail—drop it by the pinata, give the cushion a squeeze, bolt.” “Squirrel? Toddlers will swarm it like sugar-crazed hornets.” “Exactly—you’ll slip past the cake table while they’re screaming and chasing it.” “That plastic lockpicking set’s a toy—will it crack the closet lock?” “Tested on my grandma’s cookie jar lock, same model—popped it in ten seconds.” “Grandma’s cookie jar’s a low bar.” “Trust me. What’s the exit plan?” “Bike with a duct-taped wicker basket big enough for every present.” “Wicker? If it breaks mid-escape?” “Reinforced three times—you think I’m careless?” “Crazy enough to rob a kids’ party.” “Presents are brand-new gaming consoles, giant Lego sets—resell gold.” “When’s the pinata drop?” “Ten minutes. Put the costume on.” “It’s scratchy.” “Stop whining—kids are already yelling about sprinkles.” “Fine. If a toddler bites me, I’m stealing their lollipop.” “Deal. Move.”