Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5FBH0QCZ5FNTJNRENWXHD

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and desperation. Molly leaned over a crumpled map of the neighborhood, her fingers tracing the route to the Thompson residence. Bill sat across from her, nervously twisting a rubber band around his fingers. A half-eaten donut lay forgotten on the table. Molly pointed to a circled address. "The party’s at two. Kids’ll be distracted by cake and clowns. Perfect chaos." Bill frowned, his brow furrowing like a crumpled napkin. "Clowns? I didn’t sign up for clowns. Clowns are creepy." "You’re thinking of mimes," Molly said, rolling her eyes. "Clowns are just sad people in makeup. Focus." Bill sighed, snapping the rubber band against his wrist. "Fine. But if one of them honks at me, I’m out." Molly smirked, tapping the map. "We go in through the backyard. Grab the presents, stash them in the laundry basket, and walk out like we’re the cleaning crew. Easy." Bill glanced at the calendar on the wall, counting the days until Christmas. "What if someone notices?" "They’ll be too busy wondering why their kid got socks instead of a gaming console," Molly replied, folding the map with a flourish. Bill nodded slowly, though his hands still trembled. "Alright. But you’re dealing with the clowns." "Deal," Molly said, tossing him a fake mustache. "Now, let’s get this show on the road."