Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9QZ7T91TW38VS61MWR2YQ

The community hall smelled overwhelmingly of sugar and desperation. Molly wrinkled her nose, surveying the scene through the grimy window. Streamers drooped like defeated flags, a bouncy castle deflated in a corner, and a gaggle of sugar-fueled children shrieked with the manic energy of tiny, glitter-covered tornadoes. “Right,” she said, turning to Bill, who was meticulously polishing a pair of novelty Groucho Marx glasses. “Operation Sugar Rush is a go. You still think this is a good idea?” Bill didn't look up. “Molly, darling, we’re stealing presents from children. It’s inherently a *fantastic* idea. Think of the chaos! The headlines! ‘Ruthless Gift-Grabbers Terrorize Tots!’ It’s gold, I tell you, gold!” He finally peered over the glasses, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing enthusiasm. “Besides, the intel was solid. Mrs. Higgins, the party planner, bragged about the ‘unprecedented volume’ of gifts. Apparently, little Timmy Butterfield’s birthday is a *thing*.” Molly sighed. “Timmy Butterfield. Sounds like a menace. And unprecedented volume? That could mean anything from a single pony to a mountain of plastic dinosaurs.” “We’ll deal with the dinosaurs,” Bill declared, snapping the glasses onto his face. “My plan is simple. You create a diversion. Something… memorable. I’ll slip in, gather the loot, and we’re out before anyone notices a single missing My Little Pony.” “Memorable? Bill, I’m not a clown. I’m a professional.” “A professional who’s been unemployed for three weeks, Molly. Let’s not quibble over semantics. Think… a rogue balloon animal? A sudden, inexplicable outbreak of interpretive dance? Something to draw their attention away from the present table.” Molly considered this, tapping a fingernail against her chin. “Interpretive dance? Really? You think a room full of five-year-olds are going to be distracted by my rendition of ‘The Lament of the Lost Sock’?” Bill shrugged. “It’s a starting point. Look, the key is misdirection. I’ll need at least five minutes, uninterrupted. Can you manage that?” “Five minutes? In a room full of sugar-fueled chaos? I can probably manage five seconds before someone tries to stick glitter on my face.” She glanced at the bouncy castle again. “Maybe I could… deflate the bouncy castle? That would cause a stir.” “Excellent! A strategic deflation! Brilliant, Molly, truly brilliant! Just… try not to get tangled in the nylon. We don’t need you ending up as a human-sized bouncy ball.” He adjusted his Groucho glasses. “Right, I’m going to scout the perimeter. Locate the present table. Assess the dinosaur situation. Wish me luck.” He slipped out the door, leaving Molly staring at the scene with a mixture of apprehension and reluctant amusement. “Luck?” she muttered to herself. “I’ll need more than luck. I’ll need a hazmat suit and a very strong cup of coffee.” She took a deep breath and began formulating a plan. Interpretive dance was definitely off the table.