Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95RJQEABZ31N621P0N43S7

"You're telling me," Bill grumbled from the dirty van, binoculars pressed to his face, "that after actual gold bullion, our next score is... little Kyle's fourth birthday presents?" Molly, tapping impatiently on the dashboard, chirped, "Don't be a pessimist, Billy-boy! Look at the volume! Dozens of boxes, each a future choking hazard of untold value." "Untold value translates to a fiver at a car boot sale," Bill muttered, lowering his binoculars. "Molly, this feels wrong. Even for us. Stealing from toddlers?" "They'll never miss it," Molly declared. "Think of it as wealth redistribution. Plus, the *challenge*. High-security playpen, a gauntlet of sticky fingers and parents high on sugar." "High-security? It's a bouncy castle and a clown named Fizzy-Wizzy," Bill scoffed. "The clown looks like he's already had too many Fizzy-Wizzys." "Exactly! Chaotic element!" Molly’s eyes gleamed. "No predictable patterns. We need a distraction. Something big. Something... fluffy." She gestured towards a pink unicorn balloon bobbing inside the party tent. "No 'Giant Unicorn Diversion'," Bill said. "Last time, Mrs. Henderson's poodle got stuck. We didn't get the Fabergé egg." "Details! This time, it's bolder. My plan: you, disguised as an overlarge party guest, 'lost' and looking for the bathroom. While everyone's distracted, I'll sneak in through the kitchen. Known weak point." "Overlarge party guest?" Bill repeated, aghast. "Molly, I'm forty-seven. Blending in with kindergarteners?" "Your costume's adorable," Molly insisted, pulling out a brightly coloured party hat. "Primary colours, a cap, a lollipop. While you charm the parents, I'll be in the ‘kill zone’." "Kill zone?" Bill whimpered, surveying the innocent garden party. "This is a children’s party, Molly. Not a bank vault." "The principles are identical: locate valuables, neutralize opposition – prevent little ones from seeing us – extract goods. I’ve even got a special 'present sack'. Disguised as a giant teddy bear, naturally." "A giant teddy bear, in summer," Bill sighed. "What if little Kyle catches us?" "Simple," Molly grinned, adjusting her rainbow wig. "We're Santa's helpers, doing an early sweep. Quality control. Builds character, really." Bill just stared at her. "We've hit rock bottom, haven't we?" "Only if 'a lucrative haul of pre-loved plastic' counts as rock bottom," Molly chirped, humming. "Now, code word if trouble strikes: 'Fizzy-Wizzy Needs a Wee-Wee'." "I'm jumping out of this van," Bill mumbled, but he was already reaching for the party hat.