Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5BJ41ZWJA0KXRAEM7C2P5

Molly squinted at the schematic of the suburban bungalow. “Bouncy castle complicates egress,” she muttered. Bill, polishing his fake clown nose, disagreed. “Nonsense. It’s perfect cover. I’ll be ‘Bubbles the Melancholy Clown,’ providing a distraction of profound sadness. The parents will be too busy offering me therapy to notice you.” He gestured to the party timeline. “Pinata strike is at 1500 hours. The sugar crash will induce mass hysterical fatigue in the juvenile units approximately twenty minutes later. That’s your window.” Molly studied the photograph of the loot: a pile of brightly wrapped boxes in the dining room. “Security?” “One neurotic golden retriever named Muffins. I’ve procured a decoy turkey.” He held up a suspiciously meat-like object. “And the real threat: a three-year-old ‘ninja’ named Timmy with a devastatingly accurate water pistol.” “So,” Molly said, tapping the blueprint. “You cause a somber spectacle, I neutralize Muffins with poultry, grab the goods, and we exfiltrate via the inflatable slide.” “A flawless plan.” Bill sighed, a tear of artistic commitment already welling in his eye. “They’ll never see the clown coming. Or going.”