Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD82RJNQ1W040G45282PYN6

Molly adjusted her black ski mask and studied the party venue across the street. The inflatable dinosaur bouncer wobbled in the afternoon breeze while dozens of colorful gift bags lined the entrance table. "Think we'll fit in?" Bill whispered, adjusting his own mask. "Like sardines in a piñata," Molly replied, consulting her detailed blueprint. "The kids are distracted by the clown until three-fifteen. We hit the gift table, grab everything, and exit through the kitchen." Bill nodded, his nervous energy barely contained. "What about the birthday girl? She's turning eight." "Eight-year-olds are tiny tornadoes with excellent aim," Molly said. "We avoid her entirely. Stick to the periphery, work quickly." They watched children shriek with delight as the clown twisted balloons into questionable animal shapes. "The cake cutting starts at three-thirty," Molly continued. "That's our window. Twenty minutes maximum." "And if we get caught?" Molly grinned beneath her mask. "Then we blame the raccoons. Everyone blames the raccoons."