Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8VWY7K55PXFNFRMRKNNK5

Bill hovered by the chain-link fence, eyeing the inflatable T. rex bouncer through the mesh. "You sure this is the right place?" he said, voice tight. "It smells like blue raspberry Kool-Aid and regret." Molly, perched on a dumpster with a sketchbook, tapped her chin. "Invite said 'family fun.'" She flipped pages. "Presents: fancy action figures or glitter hand sanitizer. Both valuable." Bill pointed to a wooden table heavy with wrapped boxes. "Too small. Kids' stuff." Molly snorted. "Toddlers destroy $200 video games. Small packages mean big cash when we sell 'em. Piñata's a distraction—hit it until they cry, then start musical piñata to keep 'em busy. I'll grab presents, stuff 'em in my backpack. Easy." Bill stared. "What if the parent's home?" "Tell 'em I'm their long-lost aunt who forgot the gift. Babies love aunts." He sighed, smiling. "Crazy." "Clever." She ticked items off. "Let's go—someone's sticking a lollipop in the piñata. We're not early." Bill groaned, slinging a duffel. "Lead the way, genius."