Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY81TTST4YQT7E115YRK2B6

Molly hunched over the rickety kitchen table, blueprints of the community center spread out like a treasure map. Bill paced, munching on a pilfered cookie, crumbs dusting his black turtleneck. "Listen, Bill," Molly whispered, jabbing a finger at the diagram. "The party's at noon. Kids everywhere, piñatas bursting with candy. We slip in as clowns—red noses, squeaky shoes. No one suspects the entertainment." Bill snorted, spraying crumbs. "Clowns? Molly, I'm allergic to face paint! Last time I dressed up, I looked like a deranged oompa-loompah. What if a kid tugs my wig?" "Exactly!" she grinned. "Distraction gold. While they're chasing balloon animals, we hit the present pile under the cake table. Giant teddy bears, shiny bikes—easy grab. Stuff 'em in oversized gift bags labeled 'Party Favors Return'." Bill stopped pacing, eyes widening. "But the parents? That Karen mom with the minivan army? She'll chase us with her PTA wrath." Molly chuckled. "We'll rig the bounce house to deflate. Chaos! Kids bounce out the presents, we scoop 'em up in the melee. Out the back by two, flogging toys on the black market by dinner." "Genius," Bill admitted, fist-bumping her. "Just no singing 'Happy Birthday'—I sound like a cat in a blender." As sirens wailed faintly outside, they high-fived, plotting their pint-sized payday.