Run: 2026-06-24-01KVX2MMNA1VFKF56N0H9BD89F

Molly adjusted her catering uniform, hoping it would blend perfectly into the suburban backyard. The smell of frosting and sweaty nylon costumes wafted through the cracked window. Inside, a horde of sugar-fueled first-graders squealed. Bill fidgeted beside her, his nervous energy vibrating through the azalea bushes. He adjusted his ridiculous fake mustache. The prize was just beyond the sliding glass doors: a mountain of neon wrapping paper, a glittering trophy of pure greed. "Bill, put down the crowbar," Molly whispered, peering closely through the window. "It’s a six-year-old's birthday party, not Fort Knox." "I'm just being prepared," Bill grumbled, stuffing the metal bar into his oversized trench coat. "What if the clown gets violent?" "You're scared of a clown?" "Clowns are unpredictable, Molly. And those bouncy castles are basically burglar traps." "We go in through the kitchen, grab the gift table, and walk out," Molly said, rolling her tired eyes. "No crowbars. No clown-fighting." "Fine. But if a kid starts crying, I'm blaming you." "Deal. Now grab the loot bags." "What about the piñata?" Bill asked wildly. "Just leave the candy, Bill." "But the thing is completely full of Smarties." "We are stealing iPads and Lego sets, not cheap sugar. Stay focused."