Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7191E93TRZY3V41GPJV4Z

Molly crouched over a crumpled map of the party venue, her finger tracing a route to the present stash. Bill adjusted his oversized inflatable unicorn floatie, muttering, “This is a terrible idea.” “It’s *perfect*,” she said, tapping the map. “We’ll distract the adults with a ‘dangerous raccoon’—you, in the yard—while I slip in through the kitchen.” Bill glanced at his reflection in a spoon. “What if they realize raccoons don’t wear floaties?” “Then we blame the piñata guy.” She grinned. “Operation: Gift Grab is a go.” They slipped through the backdoor, only to find the backyard packed with toddlers armed with squeaky toys. Molly froze. “Abort,” she hissed. “They’re too loud.” Bill nodded, already backing away—until a child tugged his floatie. “Unicorn ride?” she demanded. Molly facepalmed. “We’re doomed.” “Not if we improvise,” Bill said, mounting his floatie. “Let’s give them a show.” They began a wobbly conga line, Molly clutching a stolen cupcake for cover, as chaos erupted. The presents, oblivious, waited inside.