Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5EEGQ7MJZ49F42986GC0K

The warehouse was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and desperation. Molly and Bill sat hunched over a crumpled map of the neighborhood, their faces illuminated by the glow of a flickering desk lamp. A half-eaten donut sat forgotten on the edge of the table, its glaze glistening like a beacon of hope in their otherwise bleak situation. “Alright,” Molly said, tapping the map with a pencil that had seen better days. “The party’s at the Johnson house, corner of Maple and Elm. Starts at noon, ends at three. That gives us a three-hour window, but we need to be in and out before the piñata breaks.” Bill frowned, scratching his stubble. “Why before the piñata?” “Because,” Molly said, rolling her eyes, “once that thing busts open, it’s chaos. Kids screaming, candy flying everywhere. We need stealth, Bill. Not a stampede of sugar-crazed toddlers.” Bill nodded, though he looked unconvinced. “Fine. But what about the parents? They’re not just gonna sit there while we waltz in and grab the loot.” Molly smirked, leaning back in her chair. “That’s where the genius comes in. We’re not just stealing the presents. We’re blending in. You’re gonna be the clown.” Bill’s jaw dropped. “The clown? Me?” “Yes, you. You’ve got the face for it,” Molly said, ignoring Bill’s wounded expression. “I’ll be the balloon lady. We’ll distract the kids, keep the parents busy, and sneak the presents out one by one.” Bill groaned, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I hate clowns. This is a nightmare.” “It’s a heist, Bill. Nightmares are part of the job,” Molly said, her tone flat. “Besides, it’s genius. No one suspects the clown.” Bill sighed, staring at the map like it might suddenly reveal a better plan. “What if someone recognizes us?” Molly snorted. “We’re thieves, Bill, not celebrities. Nobody’s gonna look twice at a clown and a balloon lady.” “Still,” Bill muttered, “what if something goes wrong? What if the dog attacks me? Or the kids try to trip me?” Molly leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and determination. “Then you improvise. Clown it up. Make ’em laugh. Kids love a clown who falls on his face.” Bill groaned again, but Molly wasn’t having it. She slapped the table, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse. “Look, Bill, this is our shot. Christmas is coming, and we’re broke. Those presents are gonna pay our rent. You gonna let a bunch of kids and a piñata scare you off?” Bill hesitated, then sighed, slumping in his chair. “Fine. But if this goes south, I’m blaming you.” “Deal,” Molly said, grinning. “Now, let’s go over the plan again. And try to look happy, Bill. You’re a clown now. Start practicing your honk.” Bill shot her a glare but reluctantly reached for the oversized red nose on the table. As he adjusted it, Molly stifled a laugh. This heist was going to be one for the books—assuming they didn’t get caught by a mob of preschoolers first.