Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95Y5PRREHS6ZPN7J71HKFQ

The van smelled like stale coffee and desperation. Molly peered through her high-powered binoculars at the colorful streamers fluttering across the street. The target is in sight, Molly whispered. Seven-year-old male. Answers to the name Toby. Currently distracted by a Tier-One entertainment specialist. Bill looked over her shoulder, chewing on a lukewarm piece of pepperoni pizza. You mean the guy in the oversized shoes making balloon giraffes? He looks like he is about to have a heat stroke. His physical condition is irrelevant, Molly snapped. What matters is the distraction window. We have exactly twelve minutes before the pinata is breached. Once the candy hits the grass, it is a swarm. Pure chaos. We won't be able to move through the yard. I still don't get why we need the grappling hook, Bill said, gesturing to the heavy metal claw sitting on his lap. The gate isn't even locked. I checked it this morning while I was pretending to be a jogger. Style points matter, Bill. Plus, we need to maintain a vertical advantage. Now, did you secure the floor plan? Bill handed her a crumpled flyer for the party. It is a backyard, Molly. There is a patio, a swing set, and a table piled with boxes wrapped in bright paper. It is not the Louvre. To the untrained eye, perhaps, Molly said, her eyes narrowing. But I see a minefield of discarded juice boxes and potential witnesses in Velcro sneakers. Did you pack the acoustic dampeners? The bubble wrap? I told you to call them dampeners. They are for wrapping the noisy plastic toys. If Toby’s grandmother hears a fire truck siren going off mid-heist, the local authorities will be on us in seconds. The local authorities are Toby’s dad, who is currently failing to light the grill. I think we are safe. Molly checked her watch, tapping the glass with a gloved finger. Complacency is the mother of failure. We go in through the azaleas, bypass the bouncy castle, and hit the gift table. I want every Marvel action figure and that high-end drone his uncle bragged about on Facebook. What about the giant teddy bear? Bill asked. It looks soft. No fluff, Bill. We have been over this. High-value, low-volume. We are not running a petting zoo. It is just so large. It would make a great cushion for the getaway. Focus! Is the extraction vehicle ready? Bill looked at the dented sedan. The engine is idling. I put a fake license plate over the real one. It says Best Mom. Brilliant. No one suspects a soccer mom. Now, on my mark. Wait, I forgot my mask. You are wearing it, Bill. It is on your forehead. Bill pulled the neon green balaclava down over his eyes. Right. Everything is dark now. Very professional. Lift it up an inch! We have three minutes. Toby is reaching for the bat. The pinata’s days are numbered. I am ready. For the toys. For the score, Bill. For the score.