Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9V3WHG72Y8GXYQRN9NXRY

The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Molly’s elbows. She stabbed a French fry with unnecessary force. Bill, across from her, was meticulously constructing a miniature fortress out of sugar packets. It was a disconcerting habit when he was stressed. And he was definitely stressed. “So, let’s go over it again,” Molly said, her voice flat. “Because frankly, Bill, the thought of explaining to The Serpent why we almost got taken down by a bouncy castle is not appealing.” Bill didn’t look up. “It’s a very structurally sound design, you know. Defensive fortifications are key to any successful operation.” “We’re stealing presents, not conquering Westeros.” He finally looked up, blinking. “Right. Presents. Okay. The ‘Operation Birthday Bonanza’ rundown. Seven-year-old Timmy Henderson. Bouncing, screaming hordes. Highly concentrated gift density. Parental units distracted by cake and questionable party favors.” “Questionable how?” “They’ve got those little plastic rings you have to get into a bottle. Someone will be losing it. Guarantee it. Emotional vulnerability is our friend.” Bill patted his sugar packet citadel. “Now, the access point. Back garden, relatively unguarded. Mrs. Henderson appears to be a firm believer in the ‘let them run wild’ parenting philosophy. We go in during the pin the tail on the donkey phase. Maximum chaos.” Molly sighed. “Pin the tail on the donkey. It’s always the simple things. What about security? Does Timmy have a guard dog? A laser grid protecting the loot?” “Worse.” “Worse than a laser grid?” “A clown.” Bill shuddered dramatically. “Full face paint. Balloon animals. Unpredictable movements. I’ve done my research, Molly. This clown, ‘Buttons,’ is a legend. Known for aggressive confetti deployment.” “Confetti? Seriously?” “It gets *everywhere*. It compromises visibility. It’s a tactical nightmare.” He added another sugar packet to his fortress, clearly bolstering its defenses. “We need to be in and out before Buttons launches his final attack. Ten minutes, tops.” “Ten minutes to sift through a mountain of Barbie Dreamhouses and Lego sets? You know those parents buy things based on sheer cubic footage, right?” “Strategic prioritization, Molly! We target the electronics. Anything shiny, small, and easily fence-able. No My Little Ponies. No art supplies. Strictly high-value targets.” “And the getaway?” “The inflatable slide. We blend in, become one with the joyous, unsupervised mayhem. It’s brilliant, I tell you. Brilliant!” He beamed, finally looking pleased with himself. “You want us to slide out of a children’s party with a bag of stolen iPads?” Molly asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Think of the irony, Molly! The glorious, beautiful irony!” Bill winked. “Plus, it's fast. And fun. Relatively.”