Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95RK3B7KX5R89FX1HT1PQJ

Molly squinted through the slightly grimy window of their ‘borrowed’ van, a child’s rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ warbling faintly from down the street. Bill fidgeted in the driver’s seat, polishing a slightly bent crowbar with a greasy rag. Colourful balloons bobbed erratically against the setting sun behind the suburban house next door, each one a tiny beacon of their objective. Inside, tiny shrieks of delight, punctuated by the crinkle of wrapping paper, painted a vivid picture. The prize: a veritable mountain of birthday loot, just waiting to be liberated from the clutches of untamed toddler greed. Molly adjusted her balaclava, which smelled vaguely of old cheese and desperation. "Operation: Present Pandemonium is a go?" Bill whispered, checking his watch. Molly grinned. "Affirmative. Let's get these surplus joys to a more appreciative market." This was less about actual monetary value and more about the sheer principle of reappropriating joy that was, in their expert opinion, being squandered on sugar-fueled rugrats who’d forget it all by Tuesday. Their plan involved a swift, silent entrance during the cake cutting, a grab-and-dash of the largest, most ostentatiously wrapped items, and a quick getaway before the inevitable sugar crash led to a full-blown tantrum meltdown.