Run: 2026-10-07-01M4AVQNTEYG8C41PGX0AHB9RF

Molly adjusted her Santa hat, the jingle bell on the tip tinkling ominously. "You sure this is the right house? The invite said ‘Pony Rides and Piñatas,’ not ‘Trap House for Thieves.’" Bill squinted at the clipboard he’d swiped from the mailbox. "Yep. Little Timmy’s fifth birthday. RSVP list has forty kids. That’s forty presents under the tree, Mol. Forty." "Forty chances to get caught by a room full of sugar-crazed toddlers." She nudged him. "You got the distraction?" Bill patted his pocket. "Clown costume, kazoo, and a lifetime of regret. I’ll be the most terrifying thing in that room since the cake was cut." Molly sighed. "Fine. But if I get tackled by a kid in a dinosaur onesie, I’m blaming you." "Deal. You take the gifts, I’ll handle the chaos. Standard op." Bill adjusted his fake mustache. "You think they’ll have those goodie bags? The ones with the bouncy balls?" "Focus, Bill." "Right. In and out. Like a bad diaper change." Molly groaned. "We’re professionals." "Professionals who steal from babies." "Correction: from *rich* babies. There’s a difference." Bill nodded. "Moral high ground. Got it." He checked his watch. "Piñata’s at 3:15. We hit at 3:16, when all the kids are blindfolded and swinging." "Genius. Absolute genius." Molly cracked her knuckles. "You realize we’re the villains in this story, right?" "Nah. We’re the underdogs. Robin Hood, but with more glitter and fewer tights." Molly rolled her eyes. "Just don’t get distracted by the cupcakes." "No promises." Bill grinned. "You ever seen a five-year-old try to eat a cupcake with both hands? It’s like watching a raccoon in a dumpster. Pure art." Molly grabbed his arm. "Bill." "Right. Focus. Presents. Go." He took a deep breath. "You ready to ruin a child’s life?" "Every day, Bill. Every day." She adjusted her gloves. "Let’s do this before I remember I have a soul." Bill saluted with his kazoo. "Operation: Birthday Bandit is a go."