Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5EN6JFBFP4T14QDAC3FSJ

Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses, peering over the rim at the bustling park. A gaggle of children swarmed around a piñata, laughing and shrieking as candy spilled onto the grass. She nudged Bill, who was slumped on the bench next to her, clutching a half-eaten hotdog. “You sure this is the place?” Molly whispered, her voice sharp. Bill swallowed a bite of hotdog and nodded. “Absolutely. Little Timmy Thompson’s sixth birthday. His dad’s loaded. The presents are gonna be primo.” Molly sighed, tapping her foot impatiently. “Okay, genius, how exactly are we supposed to waltz in there and walk out with a truckload of toys? We’re not exactly blending in.” Bill grinned, mustard smeared on his cheek. “That’s the beauty of it. We’re going undercover. I’ve got costumes.” “Costumes?” Molly raised an eyebrow. “What kind of costumes?” He reached into the duffel bag at his feet and pulled out two clown outfits, complete with neon wigs and oversized shoes. Molly stared at them, unimpressed. “Clowns? Really? You think parents are just gonna let two strangers dressed like Bozo the Clown waltz into their kid’s party?” Bill shrugged. “Nobody’s suspicious of clowns. People love clowns. Kids *love* clowns.” “Kids love *real* clowns,” Molly countered. “Not whatever this”—she gestured at the outfits—“is supposed to be.” Bill frowned, inspecting the costumes. “They’re fun. Bright colors, big smiles. What’s not to love?” Molly groaned, rubbing her temples. “Okay, fine. We’ll be the clowns. But how do we get the presents out? You planning to stuff them in your oversized pants?” Bill leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’ve got it all figured out. We’ll distract the kids with magic tricks and balloon animals. Once they’re occupied, we’ll sneak the presents into the clown car I parked behind the bouncy castle.” “You brought a clown car?” Molly blinked, trying to process this information. “Of course,” Bill said proudly. “Can’t be clowns without a clown car.” Molly sighed again, deeper this time. “Alright, fine. But if this goes south, I’m blaming you.” “Deal,” Bill said, extending his hand. Molly shook it reluctantly, her expression dubious. They ducked behind a tree to change into the clown outfits. Molly struggled with the oversized shoes while Bill adjusted his wig, humming a tune under his breath. Once they were suited up, they approached the party, waving exaggeratedly at the children. “Hey, kids!” Bill bellowed, his voice booming. “Who wants to see some magic?” The children erupted into cheers, swarming around them. Molly forced a smile, twisting a balloon into a misshapen dog. As Bill began pulling scarves from his sleeve, she scanned the pile of presents near the picnic table. It was massive—shiny wrapping paper, bows, and a mountain of toys promising to make Timmy the most popular kid in first grade. Molly nudged Bill discreetly. “Clock’s ticking,” she whispered through her painted-on smile. Bill nodded, pulling a deck of cards from his pocket. “Alright, kids, who wants to see a card trick?” As the children cheered again, Molly slipped away, ducking behind the picnic table. She grabbed armfuls of presents, rushing toward the clown car parked nearby. Bill kept the kids entertained, his voice growing louder as he fumbled through a trick. Just as Molly was loading the last of the presents into the car, a shrill voice cut through the chaos. “Hey! What are you doing?” Molly froze, turning to see Timmy’s mom staring at her, hands on her hips. Bill, ever the quick thinker, stepped in. “Oh, don’t worry, ma’am! We’re just… uh… preparing a surprise for Timmy!” Timmy’s mom narrowed her eyes. “A surprise? With my son’s presents?” Molly and Bill exchanged panicked glances. Bill laughed nervously. “Uh… yes! A surprise… parade!” Before Timmy’s mom could respond, Molly slammed the car door shut and hopped into the driver’s seat. Bill dove into the passenger side, and they peeled out of the park, honking the clown horn wildly. “Clown car,” Molly muttered, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.” Bill grinned, clutching a stuffed bear he’d grabbed at the last second. “Told you it’d work.” Molly sighed, gripping the wheel tightly. “Next time, *I’m* planning the heist.”