Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8YSDQE5E1QK74VJRKTZ1Y

Molly hunched over the kitchen table, blueprints of the McSweeney backyard spread like a treasure map under the flickering bulb. Piñata schematics and a glossy photo of squealing kids surrounded by gift mountains fueled her grin. Bill paced, twirling a fake mustache, his getaway van keys jingling nervously. "Bill, it's perfect," Molly whispered, circling the bounce house. "We crash as party crashers—me as the magician, you the balloon guy. Kids'll swarm us while we stuff presents in the van." Bill snorted, tugging his ill-fitting elf hat. "Swarm? Those rugrats are feral! Last heist, a toddler bit me. And the cake? Sticky sabotage." She smirked, sketching a diversion: exploding confetti bombs near the grill. "Distraction city's our friend. Parents booze up, clown distracts, we yoink the loot—bikes, dolls, that shiny drone pile. In and out in ten." Bill eyed the cake photo warily. "What if the birthday boy's a pint-sized karate kid?" Molly slapped his back. "Then you wrestle him. Load up, elf-boy—tonight, we gift-wrap their nightmare." He groaned but nodded, hefting a sack. As sirens wailed distantly outside, their laughter echoed, plotting the silliest score of their crooked careers.