Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5BB441E4411BG0J4S94R3

Molly adjusted the oversized clown nose, glaring at Bill over the top of her rainbow wig. “This is the worst disguise ever,” she muttered, tugging at the polka-dot suspenders digging into her shoulders. Bill, sporting a lopsided unicorn horn and a tutu, grinned. “Relax. Kids love clowns. And unicorns. Mostly.” He unfolded a crumpled napkin—their “blueprint”—covered in crayon scribbles and frosting stains. “Okay, so the presents are by the piñata. We grab ’em during the chaos.” Molly eyed the backyard swarming with sugar-crazed six-year-olds. “Chaos? You mean when the birthday kid swings a bat like a maniac?” “Exactly.” Bill patted his oversized gift bag. “We blend in, load up, and vanish before anyone notices.” A shriek erupted as the piñata split open, candy raining down. Kids dove like tiny, feral raccoons. Molly elbowed Bill. “Now!” They lunged for the gift pile, stuffing presents into the bag. A toddler in a superhero cape pointed. “That unicorn’s stealing!” Bill froze. Molly grabbed his arm. “Run!” They bolted, tutu flapping, clown shoes squeaking, as a chorus of tiny voices chased them with cries of “Stop, unicorn thief!” Rounding the corner, Bill wheezed. “Next time… no costumes.” Molly tossed the wig into a bush. “Next time… no kids.”