Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY829Z6MK3W6DPTTX5S8MX0

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned laundromat, a relentless, slightly apologetic drumming. Molly, a woman built like a particularly sturdy brick, was meticulously constructing a miniature cardboard replica of the Carmichael residence, complete with tiny, glitter-covered Christmas lights. Bill, a man whose enthusiasm perpetually outweighed his common sense, was staring intently at a bag of gummy bears. “Seriously, Bill? Gummy bears? We’re discussing a high-stakes operation involving a battalion of clowns and a bouncy castle, and you're contemplating the existential joy of a cherry-flavored chew?” Bill popped one into his mouth with a resounding *plop*. “They’re strategic, Molly. Morale. Operation ‘Sugar Rush’ demands proper sustenance. Plus, little Timmy Carmichael is obsessed with them. Leverage.” “Leverage? You’re planning to bribe a seven-year-old with gummy bears to distract him from the chaos? That’s… remarkably low-key for you.” Molly adjusted a miniature cardboard chimney on the house. “This isn’t a bank robbery, Bill. It's a children's birthday party. The target isn't armored.” “It’s *expensive* presents, Molly! I’ve been observing. Sequined unicorns. Robotic dinosaurs. Enough miniature race cars to trigger a small coronary. We need the haul.” He gestured wildly with the bag. “Think of the resale value!” “I’m thinking of the bewildered parents and the inevitable call to Interpol,” she pointed out, meticulously gluing a tiny, plastic dollhouse onto the roof. “Okay, let’s go over the plan one more time. You handle the distraction. Balloons. Face paint. Maybe a rogue magic trick involving disappearing handkerchiefs.” “I was thinking a disappearing act myself,” Bill mumbled, chewing thoughtfully. “Like, into the party room. With a bunch of presents.” “Absolutely not. You are to remain *outside*. The objective is stealth, not theatricality. I’ll slip through the back gate. The security, as you know, is practically nonexistent – a bored teenage boy and a security camera that probably only records in black and white.” “Black and white is charming, Molly. Retro. It adds to the aesthetic. ‘A heist in sepia tones!’” "Just... focus. Do you remember the emergency exit?" “Yeah, yeah. By the… the inflatable shark. Right. What if he sees me?” “Then you’ll deploy the gummy bears. It’s instinctive. You’ve practiced.” “Practiced? I mostly just ate them.” Molly sighed, a sound like escaping steam. “Look, Bill, this needs to be precise. We need to be in and out in under fifteen minutes. No messy confrontations. No glitter explosions. Just… presents.” “Fifteen minutes? That's cutting it close. Can we at least get a sign? Like... 'Operation: Birthday Bonanza' written in icing?" “Absolutely not. Just… be stealthy. And for the love of all that is holy, don't engage with the cake.”