Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TC088FJDP6QVMXSB8E5SN8

Molly spread the birthday invitation across the kitchen table and tapped the address twice with a chipped fingernail. Bill leaned closer, wearing the serious expression usually reserved for bank vaults and parking tickets. Outside, rain tickled the windows while their getaway van idled downstairs, stuffed with empty sacks, party hats for disguise, and one very nervous rubber duck. According to the invitation, young Timmy would celebrate turning seven at noon, surrounded by classmates, cake, and a mountain of beautifully wrapped presents. Molly had circled that mountain three times in red pen. Their plan was gloriously simple and morally questionable. Bill would distract the entertainer by requesting increasingly impossible balloon animals. Molly would slip toward the gift table, replace each present with a potato painted to look vaguely festive, and wheel everything out through the garden gate. They had rehearsed the potato swap eleven times. It had worked twice. “We strike at noon, grab everything, then vanish before the cake, the candles, and any suspicious grandparents notice us leaving,” Molly whispered. Bill nodded solemnly, pulled a party hat over his ears, practiced his innocent face in the toaster, and wondered whether stealing toys might make them legends or embarrassments by teatime.