Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9WY1SE5AP8BVMT2VBF3FC

The neon glow of the party store’s sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized bow tie, the plastic crinkling under her fingers. "You sure about this, Bill?" she whispered, eyeing the inflatable T-Rex guarding the front door. "Last time we hit a kid’s birthday, we got chased by a six-year-old with a Nerf gun. And a *very* aggressive cupcake." Bill, already halfway through his third candy apple, wiped sticky syrup from his chin with the back of his hand. "Relax, Mol. This isn’t some backyard shindig with a piñata full of cheap toys. This is the *Big Kid’s Bash*—top-tier presents, top-tier security, and, most importantly, top-tier *distractions*." He gestured toward the parking lot where a line of parents waited, each clutching a gift bag like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. "Look at ‘em. They’re too busy arguing over who forgot the cake to notice us." Molly squinted at the security camera mounted above the door. "That thing’s got night vision. And a *blinking light*." "Which means it’s battery-operated," Bill said, popping the last bite of his apple into his mouth. "Classic amateur hour. I’ll take it down with my *special* tool." He patted the pocket of his suspenders where a magnetized screwdriver lived. "Then we’ll slip in, grab the loot, and be out before the clown even finishes his balloon animal." Molly crossed her arms. "The clown’s got a *knife*." Bill paused mid-chew. "Since when?" "Since *last week*, when he used it to open a bag of chips in front of me at the gas station. That man’s got *issues*." A child’s laughter echoed from inside the store, followed by the unmistakable sound of wrapping paper being torn. Bill’s eyes gleamed. "Perfect. They’re already ripping into presents early. That means the parents are *distracted*. And distracted parents are *easy marks*." Molly sighed, glancing at her watch. "We’ve got twenty minutes before the cake’s cut. You really think we can hit the main table, grab everything, and be out before the piñata gets smashed?" Bill grinned, pulling a face mask from his pocket—a cartoonish, grinning fox. "With this? We’ll be invisible. Also, I brought *extra* candy. Kids love a guy who shares." Molly groaned. "You’re going to *bribe* them?" "Think of it as *negotiation tactics*." Bill adjusted the mask over his face, the elastic snapping. "Alright, here’s the plan: You distract the parents with your *charming* small talk—ask about their kids, compliment their outfits, maybe ‘accidentally’ spill a drink on the guestbook. I’ll hit the present table, work fast, and meet you by the exit. If we’re lucky, we’ll be gone before they realize the *entire* gift pile is missing." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And if we’re *not* lucky?" Bill shrugged. "Then we improvise. Like that time we stole the mayor’s car and ended up in a limbo contest." "Which we *lost*." "Only because the bouncer had *judges’ bias*." He clapped his hands together. "Alright, let’s move. And Molly?" She turned, raising an eyebrow. "Try not to get *too* attached to any of the kids. Last time, you ended up adopting a hamster named Sir Wigglesworth." Molly’s face fell. "That was *one time*." Bill grinned, already creeping toward the door. "Come on, partner. Let’s make this the smoothest heist of our careers." Molly took a deep breath, adjusted her bow tie, and followed, muttering under her breath. "If I get blamed for this, I’m telling everyone you still sleep with a stuffed unicorn named Daisy."