Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8WK7NSWG974A44ZG0PZR8A

The back room of the "Krazy Kake" bakery smelled of stale frosting and failure. Molly, a woman with the intense focus of a diamond cutter, tapped a laminated map of the "Happy Hooligans Fun Zone" spread across a flour-dusted table. Bill slumped in a folding chair, picking at a stale bear claw. "This is the motherlode, Bill," Molly said, her pointer finger landing on a square labeled 'PRESENT MOUNTAIN'. "Birthday party for Timmy Henderson, age seven. Father is a tech mogul. The gift table will be a goldmine of limited-edition consoles, over-engineered robotics kits, and, if the gossip on the parent forums is correct, a solid gold rattle for the new baby sibling." Bill sighed, a puff of powdered sugar rising from his pastry. "A rattle? We're boosting toys from a bunch of screaming ankle-biters? We used to hit armored cars." "Armored cars have guards. Guards have guns. Seven-year-olds have sticky hands and a short attention span. Our point of entry is here," she continued, ignoring him and tracing a path from the 'GORILLA GRAM' delivery door. "I've procured uniforms. We go in as the party's special entertainment: 'Professor Pumpernickel and His Wondrous Balloon Zoo'." Bill's head thudded against the table. "A clown? You want me to be a clown? The nose alone is a biohazard." "It's a disguise! The balloon animals are a distraction. While I'm twisting a pterodactyl for the birthday boy, you'll be by the present table, 'arranging the display'. You'll stash the loot in the hollow compartments of the oversized 'Happy Birthday' sign we bring in." "What about the parents?" "Drunk on punch and nostalgia. They'll be in the 'Adult Oasis' corner, complaining about mortgage rates. The only real threat is the party wrangler, a teenager named Kaylee. She's vigilant, but she has a weakness for TikTok trends. I've prepared a series of absurd, non-sensical dance moves that should completely captivate her. We call it 'The Squirrelly Shuffle'. It's hypnotic." Bill stared at the ceiling, envisioning his life choices. "Extraction?" "Same as entry, but with more urgency. We load the sign into the van. The chaos trigger is the piñata. I've pre-filled it with not just candy, but a pound of glitter and six live crickets. When it breaks, the ensuing pandemonium will be our curtain." "So our plan," Bill said, slowly, "hinges on me being a clown, you doing a weird dance, and a swarm of insects." Molly beamed, a genuine, terrifying smile. "It's foolproof. A victimless crime." "Timmy Henderson is the victim, Molly." "Timmy Henderson will be emotionally scarmed by the cricket incident and will need years of therapy. He won't even remember the toys. We're basically doing him a favor. Now, practice your balloon poodle. It looks like a diseased sausage."