Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYBAA5E1H2Q6483BMM3VM03

“Okay, so just to reiterate,” Molly said, meticulously spreading out a blueprint of ‘Barnaby’s Ballerina Birthday Bash’ on the grimy table of their safehouse – a repurposed laundromat with suspiciously clean quarters. “We’re hitting the south wall, bypassing Mrs. Higgins’ prize-winning petunias, and then, BAM, straight for the recreation room.” Bill, a man whose enthusiasm consistently outweighed his common sense, was currently attempting to balance a rubber chicken on his nose. "BAM is good. BAM is energetic. Do you think BAM is loud enough?" “Bill,” Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’re stealing presents, not staging a demolition. The goal is quiet, efficient, and utterly bewildering to the parents involved.” “But think of the *joy*,” he insisted, finally dislodging the chicken. “Imagine little Timmy’s face when he realizes his Lego spaceship is gone! It’s beautiful, Molly, absolutely beautiful.” “It’s kleptomania, Bill. And it's fueled by a frankly alarming obsession with children’s birthday parties.” “They’re brimming with potential! Shiny things! Plastic dinosaurs! Socks with silly patterns! It's a treasure trove!” “We’re aiming for the high-value items, specifically.” Molly pointed to a circled area on the blueprint. “The limited-edition ‘Space Explorers’ drone. And the triple-action water pistol. The bouncy castle gift certificates are a bonus, but secondary.” “But what about the cake?” Bill asked, his eyes wide. “It looks… magnificent. Like a miniature castle made of frosting.” “Absolutely not the cake,” Molly stated firmly. “We’re not risking a sugar coma and a public meltdown. My stomach can't handle another frosted disaster.” “Right, right, no cake,” Bill conceded, scratching his head. “So, distraction. Do you think we need a distraction?” “That’s where Kevin comes in. He’s supposed to make a dramatic, utterly unfounded claim that the magician’s rabbit has escaped. Panic follows. Presents fall. We swoop in.” “Kevin's rabbit story? Seriously? That's… charmingly inept. He actually believes a rabbit could open a locked cage?” “He’s working on it. Look, just trust the plan. I’ve rehearsed my ‘I’m terribly sorry, but this drone was simply irresistible’ speech fifty times.” “You’ve rehearsed it? You sound like a Victorian undertaker.” “It needs to be delivered with gravitas. And minimal eye contact." Molly tapped the blueprint again. “Right, access point three is the service entrance. Remember, soft shoes. We don’t want to attract attention.” “Soft shoes? I’m wearing my Doc Martens. They’re… brave shoes.” “Bill,” Molly said, her voice dangerously calm. “Brave shoes are not conducive to stealth. Hand over the boots.” “But… but they’re comfortable!”