Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9SYXGXFSJX1CT7RA8K7XX

The inflatable bouncy castle loomed, a garish pink behemoth against the otherwise pleasant suburban backdrop. Streamers choked the oak tree, and the air was thick with the sugary scent of cotton candy and impending chaos. Molly surveyed the scene with a practiced eye, chewing on the end of a pencil. “Right,” she stated, adjusting her straw hat, which felt ironically festive. “Operation Sugar Rush is a go. Your thoughts, Bill?" Bill, a man whose enthusiasm rarely matched his competence, was meticulously studying a discarded party favor – a plastic pirate sword with a decidedly dull edge. “I’m thinking… the sword could be useful! For distracting. You know, pirate stuff.” He brandished it briefly, nearly impaling a nearby balloon animal. Molly sighed, a weary sound lost in the squeals of delighted children. “Bill. We’re stealing presents, not reenacting Pirates of the Caribbean. Focus.” She consulted her notebook. "The layout is straightforward. Front entrance is guarded by a gaggle of sugar-fueled five-year-olds. Rear garden, however, presents an opportunity. An unsecured gate, minimal adult supervision, and a prize-winning petunia bed to camouflage our movements." “Petunias. Lovely. Can we… can we take some? For later?” Bill asked, already eyeing a particularly vibrant purple bloom. “Bill! We are not stealing petunias. We're stealing presents. Think, Bill, think! What are the biggest risks we face?” “The clown?” he ventured, gesturing nervously toward a man in a ridiculously oversized shoe, juggling brightly colored beanbags. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “The clown is a liability, yes, but a manageable one. No. The biggest risk is being spotted. And right now, you’re giving off ‘I’m about to steal a bunch of teddy bears’ vibes.” “I just… I like the sword,” Bill mumbled, still fiddling with it. “Put the sword down,” Molly commanded. “We’ll go in during the piñata. Everyone’s focused on the candy. That’s our window. You’re distraction duty. Keep the kids entertained, keep them away from the garden gate. Tell them jokes. Do a silly dance. I don’t care, just… don't attract attention to yourself.” Bill brightened considerably. "I *do* have a rather good chicken impression." Molly shuddered. "Please, Bill. Anything but the chicken impression. Just… smile. Nod. Engage in harmless chit-chat about superheroes. Can you manage that?” “Superheroes! Absolutely! I’m a huge fan!" He struck a heroic pose, nearly tripping over a rogue hula hoop. “To the rescue!” Molly closed her notebook with a snap. “Right. You, superhero, go blend in. I’m going to scout the present pile. We need to prioritize. Forget the battery-operated dinosaurs, focus on the gold standard: Lego sets and remote-controlled cars. Operation Sugar Rush depends on it." She glanced at the bouncy castle again. "Just... please be normal, Bill. For five minutes.”