Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMERT8FV9RFSXR9VXYP59EF

Molly leaned against the brick wall, her eyes fixed on the colorful "Happy Birthday" banner flapping in the breeze. "Can you believe people still give presents at these things? It's gotta be a goldmine, Bill." Bill's mustache twitched as he fiddled with his lock-pick set. "Yeah, but the place is crawling with rugged rugratz. We'll have to be slick, Molly." She rolled her eyes. "Since when have we ever been anything but slick, Bill? The six-year-olds will be光 picking Petrus." He frowned. "Should we really be cussing in the middle of a kids party job, though?" Molly scribbled notes on a folded napkin. "Anyway. They'll be distracted by face painting and cotton candy. I'll go in, grab the loot, and toss out a window. You drive by and scoop it." Bill stroked his chin. "We could work it that way, but how are we gonna get past the other parents?" "Simple," Molly replied with a smirk. "I'll go in as their grandparent. Everyone knows even their grandpas'd let a dogged 90-year-old steal their own birthday presents if they asked nicely enough." Bill paused, considering this. "Hang on, I thought your plan was to-" "Trust me on this one," Molly interrupted. "Dresses up grandma Toyah, and feels horrible cheating from kids, one more time, then." Bill shrugged, pulling an aged fursuit from his backpack. "If you say so, chief. It’s not like we haven’t turned kids into sucker financiers before." Molly smiled. "Any doubt that's we'll pinch the merchandise and bolt, Bill. The hood wins yet again." She tucked her notes safely in a shirt tuck and nodded at the pink Trapper Keeper full of wadded dollar bills. "See you on the flip side, freshman." Bill kissed her cheek. "Always, Molly." With a preposterous cackle, Molly slammed it into fifth gear and advanced forward, the sundown glinting off her automatic firearm.