Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ02N660WK3RBH50VRZENWZX

Molly wiped condensation off the truck's windshield, peering at the brightly painted community hall. "Alright, Bill. Recon complete. The party’s inside, loud enough to drown out a chainsaw. Parents mostly glued to the snacks table. Target window: thirty minutes when the piñata happens. Distraction central." Bill fiddled with a stolen party favor shaped like a chicken. "Thirty minutes? That’s tight. What if Junior pinatas the piñata early? Or spills punch everywhere? Or just starts screaming for no reason? Kids are unpredictable!" "Exactly why we’re not waiting for cake. Now, the presents. Stacked near the giant inflatable slide. I’ll cut through the back window, grab the loot, you drive around front for the handoff. Got it?" Bill nodded vigorously, chicken bobbing. "Got it. Slide presents. Got it. Cut window, grab loot, handoff. Easy-peasy. Except…" "Except what, Bill?" Bill leaned closer, voice dropping dramatically. "The presents. Are they wrapped? If they’re wrapped, how do we know which ones are valuable? Aunt Mildred’s terrible sweater versus Great Uncle Bob’s rare baseball card? We can’t just grab everything. That’s inefficient." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Bill, we’re stealing *all* of them. Efficiency isn’t the point. The point is getting out before Little Timmy notices his bike-shaped box is gone." Bill looked horrified. "All of them? Even the handmade potholders? That seems… rude. And bulky. The truck’s cramped enough with the air mattress." "Focus, Bill! We’ll deal with sorting later. Dump them in the truck, we’ll cull the chaff later. Now, the handoff. You be ready. Engine running. Don’t wander off to pet a stray cat again!" Bill puffed out his chest. "I learned my lesson about strays. This time, I’ll pet the inflatable slide. It’s friendly! And big!" "Bill, no petting potential evidence. Drive. Quietly. No revving the engine like you’re at the Indy 500." "Right. Quiet. Got it. Slide presents. Cut window. Grab loot. Handoff. No strays, no slides. Got it." Molly sighed, checking her watch. "Good. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "If you see a kid drop a lollipop, you look the other way. We are not collecting candy." Bill sighed dramatically too. "Fine. No candy. Just slide presents. Cut window. Grab loot. Handoff. Got it." He paused, then brightened. "What if we wear hats? Disguises?" Molly stared at him. "Bill, we’re in a stolen panel van wearing dark clothes. We’re not James Bond." "Point taken. Just chicken hats?" Molly slammed the van door. "Drive."