Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY93J5Y6HZPAXY98YXGQ5TS

The aroma of stale donuts and desperation hung thick in Bill's cluttered apartment. Stacks of outdated detective novels teetered precariously, threatening to topple onto a threadbare armchair where Molly sat perched, meticulously examining a color-coded spreadsheet. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, tapping a bright pink square, “Operation Sugar Rush involves infiltrating a five-year-old’s birthday party and pilfering the presents?” Bill, a man whose enthusiasm perpetually outweighed his intelligence, beamed. “Precisely! Think of the haul, Molly! Princess castles, remote-controlled cars, a limited-edition unicorn plushie… opportunities galore!” Molly sighed, pushing a stray strand of fiery red hair behind her ear. “Opportunities for arrest, mostly. Bill, this is insane, even for us.” “Insane? It's genius! No security, distracted adults, easily manipulated targets! The children are completely powerless against our charming facade!” He puffed out his chest. “I’m thinking I’ll go as a magician. Pull a rabbit out of a hat, steal a Lego Millennium Falcon. Classic!” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “A magician? Really? You can barely tie your shoelaces, let alone make a rabbit disappear.” “Details, details! I’ll practice! I’ll learn a card trick! Maybe a disappearing coin! Or...or a whole birthday cake!" “A disappearing cake is larceny, Bill, not magic.” She pointed at the spreadsheet. "Okay, let's focus. Venue: the community hall on Elm Street. Time: 2 pm, Saturday. Guest list – supposedly around thirty children, potential valuables unknown but estimated at… well, we’ll just call it ‘substantial.’ Your role, Magician Bill, is diversion. Keep the kids occupied. Sing songs, juggle beanbags, whatever it takes. Do *not* engage in any actual magic.” Bill looked crestfallen. “But… the rabbit!” “No rabbit. I'm going with the 'friendly aunt' approach. Slightly eccentric, possibly over-enthusiastic about face painting. Less attention-grabbing than a man in a sparkly waistcoat pulling doves from nowhere.” “Face painting? You? You can barely draw a stick figure.” “I’ll buy a stencil kit. And a lot of glitter. Now, how are we getting in and out? The place is usually swarming with parents armed with cameras and juice boxes." Bill snapped his fingers. “I scouted the place! There's a hatch in the back, used for loading supplies. It's usually unlocked. A little wiggle, a bit of leverage..." He demonstrated with a dramatic shoulder shimmy. Molly gave him a withering look. “And if it’s locked?” “We’ll… we’ll find another hatch! Or a window! Or… we’ll charm the birthday girl. Negotiate a trade. A handful of presents for a promise to teach her how to be a pirate!” Molly closed the spreadsheet with a decisive snap. “Bill, if we get caught trying to negotiate with a five-year-old, I am blaming you entirely.” “Hey! I’m resourceful!” “Resourceful and remarkably prone to spectacularly bad ideas. Just… try to look like you know what you’re doing. And for the love of all that is holy, no rabbits!”