Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD6JX63NJJ6Q9AFBVAWSJ9H

Molly crouched behind a dumpster, her breath visible in the crisp evening air. Bill adjusted a fake mustache, which immediately slipped sideways. “Are you *sure* this is the place?” Molly hissed. “I heard there were at least three hundred kids here.” “Relax,” Bill said, unfolding a crumpled map. “Parties are like fortresses—lots of exits, fewer adults. We hit the gift table first, then the candy station. Priority: presents over snacks.” “Snacks are *gold*,” Molly muttered. “Those gummy worms could fund a small country.” “Focus, Molly. We hit the cake table at 7:15, when the clown’s doing his balloon animals. Distraction’s key.” “What about the parents?” Bill smirked. “Parents cry easily. We’ll blame the clown. He’s probably used to it.” Molly rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible partner.” “And you’re a terrible pessimist. Now, let’s move. The presents won’t steal themselves.” They slipped through a gap in the fence, Bill clutching a fake mustache like a security blanket. A chorus of squeals drifted from the party. “Ready for our big score?” Molly whispered. “Ready,” Bill sighed. “Just try not to hug any kids. I don’t trust their sticky fingers.” They vanished into the neon-lit chaos.