Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZ9F3GKMPXW76TD2V6AXA2

Molly, you’re kidding me. A children’s party? We’re stealing from toddlers now? Keep your voice down, Bill. It’s not toddlers, it’s their presents. Twenty little brats, one giant pile of wrapped joy in the middle of the rec center. In and out in ninety seconds. You want me to jimmy a window while some sugar-high kid is pelting me with cake? We go in as the hired magicians. I’m the beautiful assistant, you’re the bumbling clown. While I dazzle them with card tricks, you wheel the present table straight out the side door like it’s part of the act. What if the birthday boy starts screaming? Then you honk your stupid clown nose and yell “Magic!” Problem solved. This is the stupidest plan we’ve ever had, and we once stole a mayor’s toupee. Exactly. Low expectations mean low security. They’ll have one bored dad by the door and a piñata full of Tootsie Rolls. We walk out millionaires in tiny socks and plastic trucks. I hate how much sense you’re making. Good. Now practice your goofy laugh. We strike at two o’clock sharp, right after “Happy Birthday.” Fine. But if I get hit with a juice box, I’m keeping the Xbox.