Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA40JYJKQR6KVQ4XSD1DFX

The neon glow of a flickering *Open* sign cast long shadows across the sidewalk as Molly adjusted the brim of her too-tight beret, her gloved fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against her thigh. "Alright, Bill," she hissed, "we’ve got five minutes before the first kid starts unboxing their new *robot vacuum* like it’s the Holy Grail. You ready to turn this sugar rush into our sugar rush?" Bill, hunched behind a dumpster lined with discarded pizza boxes and a suspiciously large number of glittery party hats, wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "I’m ready," he said, though his voice wavered just enough to make Molly’s eyebrow twitch. "But I *told* you we should’ve scoped this place out during the day. Now I’m seeing things—like that one kid over there who’s already got a *sparkler* and is waving it around like he’s conducting an orchestra of fireworks." Molly sighed, rolling her eyes. "Bill, it’s a *children’s party*. They’re supposed to be chaotic. Besides, you’re the one who insisted on hitting this place. You said the security was ‘light,’ which, in your words, meant ‘a guy named Gary who looks like he’d rather be napping.’" She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Gary’s still napping. I checked. He’s got a *snoring* problem." Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "Okay, fine, but what’s the play? We can’t just waltz in like we’re here to collect the piñatas. The parents are gonna *see* us." Molly grinned, pulling a crumpled map from her pocket. "No, we’re not. We’re here to *blend in*." She tapped the map with a sharp fingernail. "See this? The cake table’s right by the back door. If we can get past the ‘no candy until after dinner’ rule, we’re golden. And since half these kids are already running around like their pants are on fire, no one’s gonna notice a couple of ‘aunts’ sneaking in to ‘help with the decorations.’" Bill stared at her. "You’re suggesting we dress up as adults?" Molly waved a hand. "Not *actually* dress up. Just… borrow some clothes. There’s a laundry basket full of ‘party favors’ in the bathroom. I saw it when I was ‘inspecting the venue.’" She paused, then added, "Also, I may have already ‘borrowed’ a few things. Like Gary’s uniform. It’s in the trunk." Bill’s eyes widened. "You *what*?" Molly shrugged. "He’s got a *giant* belt buckle. Perfect for hiding the lockpick set. And if anyone asks, we’ll just say we’re ‘security reinforcements.’" She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a stage whisper. "Trust me, Bill. The only thing scarier than a bunch of hyper kids is a grown-up in a security uniform who looks like he’s about to take a nap." Bill exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for the ‘security reinforcement’ idea." Molly smirked, already pulling a pair of sunglasses from her pocket. "Deal. Now let’s go turn this party into our personal *Jewel Heist*—except instead of diamonds, we’re stealing *Lego sets* and *Nerf guns*." She adjusted her glasses, then grinned. "And if anyone asks, we’re just here to ‘supervise the games.’" Bill groaned again, but this time, he followed her into the dim glow of the party lights, already plotting how to make his escape before the first kid started crying over a lost *My Little Pony*.