Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5CHCAZQFXZ4HTM4JEY5VV

The faded neon sign of *The Drowsy Donut* flickered outside the diner’s grimy window. Inside, Molly tapped her nails against the chipped Formica table, her gaze flicking between the door and theNão necessário copy of *Party Planning for Dummies* sprawled open between the salt shaker and a half-eaten glazed donut. Bill slumped into the booth opposite her, his trench coat damp from the drizzle outside. "You're late," Molly said. Bill shrugged. "Stopped to pet a dog." "*Now?*" "It was a really good dog." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "We’re planning a heist, Bill." Bill snatched her donut and took a bite. "Yeah, yeah. The kids’ party. What’s the play?" Molly flipped the book around to show him a highlighted page. "Golden Oaks Community Center. Birthday for a six-year-old named…" She squinted. "Timmy? Tommy? Something with a *T.* Parents rented a bouncy castle, hired a clown—" Bill choked on the donut. "*A clown?*" "—and they’ll pile all the presents near the gift table. Easy grab." Bill wiped powdered sugar off his chin. "You wanna rob a clown?" "No, I wanna rob a *six-year-old’s party.* The clown is just… there." "You know clowns are evil, right?" Molly blinked. "You’re scared of clowns?" Bill crossed his arms. "I’m *wisely cautious* of clowns. They’re unpredictable. And their shoes squeak." Molly sighed. "Fine. *Fine.* We’ll avoid the clown. But the real issue is the parents." Bill scoffed. "What, like they’ll catch us? Please. They’ll be too busy drinking lukewarm punch and pretending to care about little Timmy-Tommy’s magic tricks." Molly shook her head. "No, dummy. They hired *security.*" Bill froze mid-bite. "...Security?" "A rent-a-cop named *Carl.*" "That’s it? One guy?" "One guy with a *walkie-talkie,*" Molly said gravely. Bill snorted. "We’ve taken down museum lasers. You’re telling me Carl’s walkie-talkie is the big hurdle?" Molly leaned in. "Carl’s got a *lazy eye.* He could be looking at you, or he could be staring at a wall. You’ll never know." Bill chewed thoughtfully. "Okay, that *is* unsettling." "We need a distraction." She flipped the book page. "Balloon animals." Bill groaned. "Now *you* want clown work?" "No, *you’re* doing balloon animals. I’ll grab the loot while Carl’s distracted by your—" She gestured vaguely. "*Whatever that’s supposed to be.*" "A swan?" Bill twisted an imaginary balloon. "That’s a snake with a tumor." Bill gasped, clutching his chest. "*Harsh.*" Molly snapped the book shut. "Meet me at the van at noon. Wear something festive." Bill frowned. "Festive like…?" "Like *not* a trench coat full of donut crumbs." Bill looked down at his coat, offended. "These crumbs are *strategic.*" Molly stood. "Just don’t scare the kids." Bill smirked. "No promises." Outside, the flickering neon buzzed ominously, casting long shadows across their half-baked plan.