Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5G278FX70EB0XYCJ2115R

“Alright, Molly, here’s the plan,” Bill whispered, crouching behind a bouncy castle. “We strike when they’re all distracted by the clown.” Molly frowned. “The clown’s juggling fire, Bill. What if he burns the place down before we get the loot?” “Even better—chaos is our getaway driver.” Bill adjusted his fake mustache. “You’ll pose as the pizza delivery guy.” “I’m wearing a tutu.” “Right. Plan B: you’re the ballet instructor.” “The kid’s six. They don’t *have* ballet instructors.” Bill sighed. “Fine. We improvise. You distract the parents with a fake allergy—say little Timmy’s allergic to happiness.” Molly rolled her eyes. “And what’re you doing?” “Professional present thief. I’ve got a sack and everything.” He held up a pillowcase. “That’s a Spider-Man pillowcase.” “It’s thematic.” A kid walked by, staring. Bill froze. “...Hide me.” Molly grabbed his head and shoved it into the ball pit. “We’re doomed.” Bill’s muffled voice came through. “Nonsense. This is genius.” “Your genius is currently drowning in plastic balls.” “Worth it.” He emerged, spitting out a blue one. “Let’s just grab the presents and run.” Molly groaned. “Fine. But if we get tackled by a dad in cargo shorts, I’m blaming you.” “Deal.” Bill grinned. “Happy heisting.”