Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95BYXTNBF59Y1VWR229CNT

"Ready?" Molly asked, checking her plastic stopwatch with military precision and a cold stare. "I look like a giant blueberry," Bill grumbled, adjusting his itchy foam padding and tightening the chin strap. "It’s a mascot suit, Bill. It provides perfect camouflage." Bill tugged his floppy felt ears with an expression of soul-consuming regret. "Focus. We enter through the bounce house. Once the cake hits the table, we strike." "Why then?" Bill sighed heavily, checking his reflection in the grime of the van window while Molly checked her gear. "Distraction. Sugar-crashed five-year-olds are basically zombies. They won't notice us bagging the sets." "I hope there’s a Batman set." "We are professionals, Bill. We sell the loot." "Right. Professionals." Molly peered through the tinted glass at the suburban backyard madness unfolding before them. "Status on the juice boxes?" "Spiked with chamomile. They'll be snoring by three." "The gift pile is located next to the pinata." "Is the pinata a trap?" "It's cardboard, Bill. Not a claymore." "I’m just saying, these kids are ruthless." "Let's move. That bouncy castle isn't going to infiltrate itself." Molly pulled her mask down, her eyes gleaming with greed as she grasped the door handle. They stepped out into the sun, two shadows in the neighborhood playground, ready to commit the most adorable felony of the year.