Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7KHJKEAYP0M79Y9H9SD88

Molly leaned against the van’s door, arms crossed, as Bill scribbled furiously on a greasy paper napkin. “So, you’re saying we just waltz in, grab all the presents, and waltz out?” Her voice dripped mockery. Bill’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Waltz? Molly, this is a *precision operation*. We need *strategy*.” He thrust the napkin at her. “Step one: I’ll distract the parents with a… a…” He paused, scrambling. “A *dance-off*? No, too obvious. A pie fight? Too messy. Wait—” “A unicorn balloon?” Molly deadpanned. “Exactly!” Bill’s pencil flew. “I’ll pop it near the snack table. Chaos. Kids will scatter. You’ll slip in, load up, and we’ll—” “Evade security?” “There’s no security at a *kids’ party*, Molly. It’s a soft target.” He grinned. “We’re like… party ninjas.” “Party *clowns*,” she corrected. “More like. You’d trip over your own feet trying to be sneaky.” “Focus, Molly. We’ve got two hours before the cake. That’s plenty of time.” He flipped the napkin. “Step two: inventory. How many presents are we talking?” “Last I checked, the gift table was taller than a giraffe. And don’t get me started on the *other* table.” “The one with the ‘Private’ sign? That’s the birthday girl’s room. We’ll skip it.” “Oh, thank god. I was worried we’d have to climb a ladder.” Bill facepalmed. “Right. Ladders. We’ll need a ladder. Or…” He snapped his fingers. “A *flying carpet*! We could *fly* in.” “Bill. We’re stealing gifts from a party. We don’t have a flying carpet.” “But what if we *did*? Think of the publicity.” Molly snorted. “Let’s stick to the plan. Pop the balloon, grab gifts, leave before the parents notice they’re missing. Easy.” “Too easy,” Bill muttered. “What if the birthday girl cries? What if someone screams ‘Thief!’?” “Then we blame the clown,” she said. “There’s always a clown at these things. They’re *designed* to be scapegoats.” “Genius.” Bill flipped the napkin again. “Step three: exit strategy. We’ll need a getaway vehicle. Your van’s perfect.” “Thank God. I filled the gas tank this morning.” She gestured to the van. “It’s got room for all the presents. We’ll just…” She paused. “Stack them in the back. Like a pyramid. A *present pyramid*.” “With a flag on top?” “A duck flag. For… reasons.” Bill nodded solemnly. “Right. Duck flag. We’ll be in and out like—” “Like what?” “Like… like burglars. But with less *burglary* and more… *gifting*.” Molly smirked. “We’re gonna be the most polite thieves in history.” “Polite *and* successful,” he added. “Now, let’s review the timeline. Balloon pop at 3:15. Gift grab by 3:30. Duck flag deployment at 3:45.” “Why the duck flag?” “For morale,” Bill said. “And because I like ducks.” They both laughed, the sound echoing off the van’s rusted walls. Molly tossed the napkin out the window. “Let’s move. The birthday girl’s probably already planning her next dance-off.” Bill saluted. “To the party, my duck.” And with that, they hurried toward the horizon, leaving a trail of crumpled napkins and questionable life choices in their wake.