Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9X6Y26B4XVXYQ3VBZ0BG3

Molly and Bill huddled in their rusty van, parked across from the suburban house decked out in streamers and a giant inflatable unicorn. A dog-eared party invite lay spread on the dashboard, circled in red marker. "Bill, this is gold," Molly whispered, eyes gleaming. "Timmy's turning six. Presents stacked like a Vegas jackpot—Xbox, bikes, that new drone everyone's buzzing about." Bill scratched his stubbled chin, peering through binoculars. "Kids, though. Screaming hordes. And parents. We need disguises. I'm thinking balloon animals." Molly snorted. "Brilliant! You twist wiener dogs while I snag the gift table. Entry: Crash the piñata game. Swing hard, candy flies, chaos reigns—we grab and dash." "What about the clown?" Bill asked, voice pitching up. "That freak's got a squirting flower. One spritz, we're soaked and busted." "Improvise! You distract with bad magic tricks. 'Abracadabra, where's my rabbit?' Poof—into the bushes with the swag." Bill grinned maniacally. "Haul it to the van in party bags. 'Thanks for the loot, kiddos!' Exit via bounce house—ultimate getaway bounce." Molly high-fived him. "Flawless. Tonight, we rob the rugrats blind." As sirens wailed distantly—unrelated, they hoped—the duo clinked coffee mugs, plotting their pint-sized perfect crime.