Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA5RD8K4DCGAJ1HA863KXH

The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt sticky under Molly’s elbows. She’d picked at a sad-looking plate of fries for ten minutes, arranging them into miniature fortresses only to demolish them with a sigh. Across from her, Bill was meticulously dismantling a sugar packet, creating a tiny, improbable origami crane. “So, let’s go over it again,” Molly said, her voice flat. “Just to be absolutely clear, we are robbing a birthday party.” Bill didn't look up. "Technically, we're *reallocating* resources. Think of it as wealth redistribution, but with bouncy castles." “It’s little Timmy Henderson’s sixth birthday. Six. He’s probably still learning to tie his shoes.” “Age is irrelevant, Molly. Opportunity is everything. And the opportunity presented by a room full of unchecked, brightly wrapped consumerism is… significant.” He finally glanced up, fluttering the crane with a thumb. “Mrs. Henderson practically bragged about the ‘mountain of gifts’ on Facebook. Diamond tiaras aren’t usually for six-year-olds, but you never know. Parents are weird.” Molly rubbed her temples. “And your plan involves…?” “Operation: Sugar Rush. We pose as entertainment.” “Entertainment?” “Face painting.” Bill beamed, a genuinely unsettling expression on a man who looked like he hadn’t seen sunlight in a decade. “I’ve been taking online courses. I can do a surprisingly accurate Pikachu.” “You can barely draw a straight line.” “Details, details. We get inside during peak party hour, blend with the… festive atmosphere, and while everyone’s distracted by the magician – a guy named ‘The Amazing Alberto’ which, frankly, is a low bar – we systematically empty the present table.” “Systematically?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “Prioritization. High-value items first, naturally. Then the Lego. Everyone loves Lego. Then the… the Paw Patrol stuff.” He shuddered. “That’s rough, even for me.” “And what about surveillance? Security?” “Mrs. Henderson’s security consists of a chihuahua named Princess and a teenage nephew who’s probably more interested in his phone than a potential crime. We’re golden.” Bill broke off a piece of his sugar crane and popped it in his mouth. “Plus, kids are terrible witnesses. ‘Oh, the man with the face paint took all the presents? Was he wearing a hat?’” Molly groaned. “This is the most ridiculous thing we’ve ever done.” “Is it, though? Remember the garden gnome heist? That was objectively more dangerous.” “We almost got taken down by a sprinkler system, Bill! A SPRINKLER SYSTEM.” “A highly sophisticated sprinkler system, triggered by movement sensors!” Bill countered, then lowered his voice. “Look, the payout could be good. And frankly, my landlord is threatening eviction. He said he needs the money for a… a ceramic squirrel collection.” Molly stared at him. “A ceramic squirrel collection?” “Don’t judge. It’s a complex situation." Bill reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Come on, Molly. For the sugar rush. For the Lego. For the sake of avoiding ceramic squirrels.”