Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFN16P7CKJNTDVE449HFWFA

The garage was dim, lit only by a single hanging bulb. Molly spread a crumpled party invitation on the workbench. "Here's the layout. The gift table is near the back, by the bathroom. Easy access." Bill squinted. "You want us to rob a kid's party? What if we get caught? There'll be parents with cameras." "Relax," Molly said. "I've got it covered. I'll be the entertainment. Clown makeup, oversized shoes, the whole nine yards. No one suspects the clown." "And me?" Bill asked. "You're the catering guy. White shirt, apron, carry a tray of juice boxes. Blend in, then make your move when the piñata goes down." "The piñata?" "Classic distraction. Everyone goes wild for candy. That's our window." Bill sighed. "Fine. But if I have to wear a ruffled collar, I want half the haul." "Deal," Molly said, shaking his hand. "Remember, when I yell 'banana bread,' you bolt with the goods." "Banana bread. Got it." Bill paused. "Why banana bread?" Molly grinned. "Because no one remembers a thief who smells like cinnamon and regret."