Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB9JJAQZC797HPZ1N6YW6W

Molly and Bill squeezed into the back of their rusty van, parked across from the garish balloon-archway of Timmy Turner's 7th Birthday Bash. Blueprints of the backyard—pilfered from a realtor's trash—were spread on a greasy pizza box, marked with crayon scribbles for escape routes. Bill's eyes gleamed like a feral elf. "Picture it: we slip in as balloon animals, snag the gift table during cake time. Presents galore—Xboxen, bikes, that drone Timmy's folks splurged on!" Molly snorted, adjusting her fake mustache in the rearview. "Brilliant, genius. And when the sugar-rushed horde spots us? We'll be trampled by Velcro sneakers." She jabbed the map. "No, we go low-tech: I distract with face-painting, you tunnel under the bounce house like deranged gophers." Bill cackled, stuffing a whoopee cushion into his bag. "Gophers with swag! Load up the kiddie pool for transport—waterproof and innocent." As piñata whacks echoed from the party, Molly grinned wickedly. "Fine. But if Candy the Clown outsells us, you're eating the leftover cupcakes solo." They clinked stolen party horns, revving the van toward chaos, dreaming of unwrapped riches amid the confetti storm.