Run: 2026-03-03-01KJV01H78H1RCC0MQ5MMT3ENR

Molly adjusted her neon pink velvet balaclava, which was slightly too tight across the bridge of her nose. The suburban driveway was cluttered with tricycles and a deflated bouncy castle that wheezed in the twilight. She checked her watch. They had precisely twelve minutes before the sugar-crazed toddlers returned from the magician’s act to begin the opening of the loot. Bill stood beside her, sweating profusely into his oversized clown shoe covers. He hefted a massive, empty burlap sack, his knuckles white with nervous tension. The house smelled faintly of spilled lemonade and despair. A golden retriever barked lethargically from the porch, unfazed by their presence. Molly nudged Bill with her elbow, indicating the sliding glass door left ajar for the caterers. Their target was a mountain of glittery bags piled precariously on a mahogany dining table. It was the heist of the century, assuming they could avoid tripping over a stray Lego brick. She glanced at the perimeter, noting the lack of security guards—or even a mildly suspicious parent. Are you ready for this insanity, Bill? He adjusted his painted smile, sighed heavily, and whispered back, Absolutely not, let us go ruin these children’s birthdays forever. They crept toward the door.