Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5XHXBWNFFC84EKJ3SYX1N

Molly leaned against the van’s door, arms crossed, staring at the sprawling tent in the park. “Okay, Bill. We’ve got one hour before the parents realize the presents are missing. Plan?” Bill nodded enthusiastically, crumbs from his sandwich scattering. “Phase one: I distract the bouncer with my ‘world’s best dad’ sash. He’ll be too busy crying to notice us.” Molly arched an eyebrow. “You’re wearing a sash to a *children’s* party?” “It’s thematic!” He thrust the sash at her. “Put it on. We’re blending in.” “Blending in by dressing like a confused grandpa?” She snatched the sash back. “We’re not stealing cookies, Bill. Presents. All of them. The pink one with the unicorn? That’s going straight to my apartment.” “Unicorns are overrated. What about the one shaped like a dinosaur?” He gestured wildly. “I’ve always wanted a T-Rex.” Molly groaned. “Focus. We sneak in, grab the boxes, exit through the bounce house. Simple.” “Exit strategy?” Bill perked up. “You’re not even listening.” She pulled out a blueprint. “There’s a service entrance behind the food truck. We’ll use that.” “Ah, yes. The food truck. I’ll pose as a caterer. I’ll wear a hat. Very stealthy.” “You once wore a hat to a bank robbery and got caught because you sneezed.” “Sneezing is involuntary! Also, I’m allergic to hats.” Molly facepalmed. “Fine. You’ll be the decoy. I’ll grab the presents and we’ll meet at the van. No heroics.” “Heroics are my middle name.” He struck a pose. “Bill the Bold!” “Your middle name is ‘regret’,” she muttered. They approached the tent. Bill tiptoed forward, then immediately tripped over a garden hose. A nearby parent yelped. “Distract the bouncer?” Molly hissed. “On it!” Bill grabbed a piñata, swinging it wildly. Confetti exploded, covering a toddler. “Why is there a piñata?” the parent demanded. “It’s… thematic!” Bill saluted. Molly dragged him away. “We’re not here for the piñata. We’re here for the presents.” They slipped through the service entrance. Inside, Molly scanned the room. “Three boxes near the cake. Move.” Bill nodded, then paused. “Molly? Why are there so many parents?” “Because it’s a *children’s* party, genius.” “Right. Kids. Parties. Got it.” He sneezed violently. A voice boomed, “Who’s eating my daughter’s gluten-free cookies?” Molly grabbed his arm. “We’re leaving. Now.” They bolted toward the bounce house, Bill’s sash flapping. A child pointed. “Look, Daddy! A giant clown!” “Clown?” Bill blinked. “I’m not a clown. I’m a—” “Bill the Bold!” Molly cut him off. They leaped into the bounce house, bouncing wildly until they reached the exit. Molly emerged first, clutching a box. Bill staggered out, covered in foam peanuts. “We did it?” he asked, holding up a single present shaped like a cactus. “That’s the piñata,” she said flatly. “Oh.” He looked at the cactus. “Still cool, though.” Molly threw the box at his head. “Next time, *I* plan the heist.” “Next time, I’ll be the one sneezing,” he said, as the van sped off, cactus in tow.