Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8M7GY7NC4SN9C120WGVSN

Molly hunched over the scarred kitchen table, blueprints of "Timmy's Superhero Bash" spread like a battle map. Bill paced, twirling a fake mustache that kept slipping off his sweaty lip. Piñatas dangled from the ceiling fan, mocking their scheme. "Bill, we crash as entertainers," Molly whispered, eyes gleaming. "Piñata time—kids swarm candy, parents boozeed. Sacks ready?" "Perfect! I'll juggle distractions, you swipe gifts under the bounce house," Bill grinned, knocking over a rubber duck. She sketched routes: back door via sandbox, vault through the cake table. Alarms? None, just squealing tots and helium balloons. Disguises: her in polka-dot tutu, him as "Captain Chaos" with exploding whoopee cushions. Bill practiced his patter: "Abracadabra, presents poof!" A test balloon popped, startling the cat into a yowling frenzy. Molly smirked. "Idiot. Timing's key—five minutes in, out via the inflatable slide. Load van disguised as the ice cream truck." Bill salivated. "Xboxes, bikes, that pony piñata stuffed with cash!" Risks piled up: hyper toddlers, punch-drunk dads, one nosy piñata donkey. But the haul? A thief's Christmas in July. "Tomorrow, 2 PM sharp," Molly sealed it. Bill high-fived air, mustache airborne. Heist of the century—or epic toddler tantrum—awaited.