Run: 2026-02-26-01KJCS0V4R7RPMZDQ4NVWP3Y3P

The moon hung low over Maplewood Park, casting silver light on the inflatable unicorn bouncing in the distance. Inside a rusty van parked behind the playground, Molly adjusted her ski mask and tapped her phone against her knee. Bill leaned back in his seat, chewing gum with the intensity of a man plotting world domination. “Alright,” Molly began, “the target’s a kids’ party at Mrs. Higgins’ house. Thirty guests, one hundred and twenty gifts under the tree. We’re going in like ghosts but leave with more than just bad breath.” Bill snorted. “Ghosts? You mean like actual ghosts? Because I’ve got a cousin who swears he saw one in a laundromat last week.” Molly rolled her eyes. “No ghosts this time. Just a bunch of parents distracted by glitter cannons and a piñata shaped like a dinosaur. The real challenge is the security—Mrs. Higgins installed motion sensors last month after someone ‘accidentally’ set off the sprinklers during her annual cake toss.” Bill grinned. “Sprinklers? That’s practically an invitation. But how do we get past them?” “We’ll need a distraction,” Molly said, flipping through a crumpled blueprint. “The piñata’s the key. If we knock it over early, everyone’ll swarm it. While they’re distracted, we slip into the house through the side door. It’s only locked if someone’s home—but Mrs. Higgins always leaves it unlocked for the dog walker.” Bill leaned forward, elbows on knees. “And the presents? They’re stacked in a pyramid under the tree. How do we lift that without tripping alarms?” Molly smirked. “We don’t. We just grab everything and run. The dog walker’s probably too busy chasing squirrels to notice a few missing toys.” A pause stretched between them as Bill chewed his gum louder. “What about the birthday kid? Shouldn’t we avoid him?” “Nah,” Molly said, shrugging. “He’ll be too busy blowing out candles to care about stolen Legos. Besides, the real prize is the cake—chocolate with extra sprinkles. That’s worth the risk.” Bill laughed. “Chocolate sprinkles? You’re really going for the sweet tooth angle here.” “Every heist needs a weakness,” she shot back. “Now, about the van—did you remember the spare key?” “Left it in the hollowed-out copy of *War and Peace*,” Bill said, pulling a book from the passenger seat. “But I might’ve used it to prop open the door. The lock’s probably still sticky.” Molly groaned. “Of course. Let’s just hope the dog walker doesn’t show up early. Last time he came, he scared off the piñata vendor.” Bill grinned. “Then we’ll blame the sprinklers again. Classic misdirection.” She shook her head. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re overthinking,” he countered. “Relax. We’ll be in and out before anyone realizes the presents are gone. Except maybe the birthday kid—he’ll find a note saying ‘Sorry, we took your stuff! – Team Gummy Worms.’” Molly sighed. “That’s not funny.” “Neither is getting caught,” Bill said, revving the van’s engine. “Now, let’s go make some memories. Preferably ones where we don’t get arrested.” The van lurched forward as the moon dipped behind clouds, leaving the park’s glow fading behind them. Somewhere, a dog barked, and the night held its breath.