Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY875KEKG1G6Q4FHVCCQK6G

Molly and Bill crouched in the dim glow of a flickering desk lamp, blueprints of the suburban backyard spread out like a treasure map. Empty pizza boxes littered the floor of their rundown motel room, evidence of a planning session fueled by cheap cheese and cheaper dreams. "Listen up, Bill," Molly whispered, jabbing a finger at the sketch of the party tent. "We crash the kiddie bash at three o'clock sharp. Presents piled high under that balloon arch—easy pickings." Bill scratched his stubbled chin, eyes widening. "But Molly, it's a children's party. What if we trip over a toddler? Or worse, face the wrath of a sugar-raged five-year-old?" She snorted, leaning closer. "That's the genius! Chaos is our ally. You dress as the magician—do a few lame tricks to distract 'em. I'll be the face painter, slipping gifts into my bag while the brats chase butterflies." He chuckled nervously. "Face painter? With my allergies? One whiff of that greasepaint and I'm sneezing fireworks. What if the birthday kid spots us?" Molly grinned wickedly. "Then we improvise. Blame it on the piñata fairy. 'Sorry, folks, the presents vanished in a puff of candy dust!' We snag the loot, vanish into the bounce house, and fence 'em by midnight. Riches await, partner." Bill sighed, folding the map. "Fine, but if I end up in a tutu, you're buying the drinks after." As laughter echoed, the heist blueprint solidified—absurd, audacious, and utterly hilarious.