Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2FDWEAXSDW7G1110H8YY80

Molly smoothed a crinkled party invitation flat on the sticky diner table. “That’s the target, Bill. Little Timmy Turnbull’s fifth birthday. His parents are obscenely wealthy and criminally trusting.” Bill slurped his milkshake, leaving a chocolate moustache. “Right, so we waltz in dressed as what, a clown and a balloon animal?” “Too obvious. We’re the premium ice-cream vendors.” Molly tapped a schematic drawn in crayon. “This bouncy castle is the present vault. Thirty gifts, minimum. We roll in, scoop the haul into our freezer cart, and roll out during the piñata frenzy.” Bill squinted. “Piñata frenzy? That’s our window?” “Blindfolded toddlers swinging a bat, Bill. No one’s watching a couple of ice-cream thieves.” Bill nodded slowly, then frowned. “What’s our flavour of the day?” “Vanilla distraction and get-away fudge.” Molly leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “We just need to navigate the ball-pit gauntlet and avoid the cake-smeared enforcer.” “You mean the birthday boy’s mother.” “She’s a hugger, Bill. A vicious, relentless hugger. It’s the greatest danger we’ll face today. You ready?” Bill wiped his mouth, leaving a smear of chocolate on his sleeve. “For a mountain of plush unicorns and action figures? I was born ready.”