Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08FY1VMQQWNSCN1NMXGQJX

“Molly, are we seriously doing a children’s party? With balloons?” Bill whispered, gripping the sack like it owed him money. “Shh. We’re professionals. Besides, stealing presents is basically charity,” Molly said. “Charity?” Bill blinked. “For us. The kids won’t even remember what they got. We’ll remember forever. In a trunk. Under my bed.” “Your bed smells like dust and poor decisions,” Molly muttered. “My bed is an artisanal ecosystem.” Bill leaned toward the door. “Okay, step one: how do we get in?” “Easy,” Molly said, flashing a tiny lockpick set. “We say we’re the surprise balloon delivery.” Bill stared. “You can’t just say that.” “Watch me,” Molly said. “Hey, kids, I’m—” “We’re not talking to kids,” Bill cut in. “Right, right. We’re talking to the adult who’s pretending not to notice the sliding shadow.” Bill swallowed. “What adult?” “The one with the ‘I can totally handle sugar’ face,” Molly replied. “The cookie table supervisor. I’ll distract them with enthusiasm.” Bill whispered, “You? Enthusiasm?” “Yes. I can perform joy at gunpoint.” “There’s no gun.” “Exactly. It’s more impressive.” Bill adjusted his gloves. “Fine. And step two?” “We grab the presents, not the cake,” Molly said. “Cake is a trap. Frosting is evidence.” Bill nodded. “And step three?” Molly smiled. “We leave before the piñata starts swinging like a lawsuit.” Bill exhaled. “This is insane.” “It’s hilarious,” Molly corrected, and they slipped toward the door.