Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ73K8PVT6Y1QYSZAZH4SN6Q

Molly adjusted her crooked clown wig, which kept slipping over her left eye. "Bill, please tell me honestly the grappling hook isn't attached to a piñata." Bill didn't look up from his cracked tablet, which was covered in sticky fingers and fruit snacks. "It's an adaptive grip system, Molls. Plus, the piñata adds camouflage. Kids love piñatas. If we swing down holding one, they'll think we're early party animators." Molly unrolled a napkin sketch that smelled of pepperoni grease. The Henderson backyard was a fortress of inflatable tunnels and a sandpit rigged with sprinklers. "We're stealing a LEGO Star Wars Ultimate Millennium Falcon, Bill. Not winning a trust fund." Bill finally looked up, his grin as wide as a birthday cake. He patted his chest, causing a hidden compartment to rattle suspiciously. "Exactly! The Falcon is the jewel of the Henderson bash. Do you know what seven-year-old Timmy Henderson did for charity last year? He walked three miles on his hands. That kid has focus. His parents spared no expense." She tugged at her tight collar. The spandex itched with the promise of failure. It was an outfit that screamed incompetence, which Bill apparently considered the height of security bypass. "The party starts in ten minutes. If we're seen wearing spandex with cupcake patterns, we're done for." Bill tapped his helmet, which was shaped like a cupcake. He pulled a checklist written in crayon from his pocket and squinted at it. "Wiggle room, Molls. Cupcakes hide the gear. Besides, I practiced my 'Gotcha!' sound effect. It's terrifying." Outside, a mariachi band was tuning their saxophones, and the scent of frosting wafted through the cracks in the van doors. Molly kicked the tires of their van, which was painted pink and plastered with stickers reading 'Tots & Trucks Moving Services.' "You sound like a very damp sponge." "I like to keep them guessing. Now, grab the foam swords. We might need to parry a juice box attack." Molly groaned loudly, pulling a grappling line from a tube labeled 'Juice Puffs.' The line snapped back and hit her in the forehead with a soft thwump. "This is the absolute stupidest plan we've ever executed." Bill adjusted his goggles, smearing jelly across the lenses. "And yet, here we are, aiming for the glitter and the gold. Ready to make some memories? And by memories, I mean an empty party favor bin?" "Just don't trip over the cake, Bill." "I never trip. I stumble strategically. Now, let's bounce into action." Molly grabbed the heavy door, pointing at the house through her distorted vision. "They're opening the gates! Move, or we're serving finger sandwiches for free!" Bill scrambled for the door, knocking over a hollowed-out drum set. The Falcon box was wedged inside, labeled 'Return to Sender.' "Wait for my glitter bomb signal!" "Go! Quickly!"