Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5HBXX43C75W8PYGNE8TC8

The dimly lit room smelled vaguely of stale coffee and desperation. Molly leaned over the table, her hands gripping the edges of a scribbled map of a suburban neighborhood. Bill sat across from her, twirling a pen between his fingers like it was the greatest threat to mankind. He squinted at the map, then at Molly, then at the map again. “So,” Molly began, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension, “the plan is simple. We hit the Johnson’s house during little Timmy’s birthday party. Kids will be distracted by cake, parents by wine, and we’ll be in and out with the loot before anyone notices.” Bill blinked slowly, like a cat contemplating a particularly unimpressive mouse. “You think little Timmy won’t notice us *stealing* his presents? Kid’s six, not blind.” Molly rolled her eyes so hard it looked like they might detach. “Timmy’s too busy stuffing his face with frosting to care. Besides, kids are easily distracted. Throw a toy car at him and he’ll forget we exist.” Bill leaned back in his chair, the legs creaking under his weight. “And the parents? They’re not exactly known for their observational skills, but they might notice two grown adults hauling presents out the front door.” “That’s why we’re not going out the front door,” Molly snapped, jabbing a finger at the map. “We go in through the kitchen, grab the presents from the living room, and exit through the backyard. Easy. Clean. No one catches us.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “What about the dog?” Molly froze mid-gesture. “The dog?” Bill nodded smugly. “Yeah. The Johnsons have a golden retriever. Name’s Max. Loves to bark at everything. Thought you’d done your homework.” Molly’s face flushed red. “Fine. We bring dog treats. Max gets a snack, we get the presents. Everyone wins.” Bill snorted. “You really think Max is gonna be fooled by a couple of Milk-Bones? That dog’s smarter than you.” Molly glared at him, her jaw tightening. “You got a better idea, genius?” Bill grinned, leaning forward. “Actually, I do. We dress up as clowns.” Molly stared at him, her expression blank. “Clowns.” “Yeah,” Bill said, gesturing wildly. “Kids love clowns. Parents tolerate clowns. Dogs... well, dogs hate clowns, but that’s beside the point. We blend in, entertain the kids, and while everyone’s distracted, we slip the presents out.” Molly opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Bill shrugged. “Got a better plan?” Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine. Clowns it is.” Bill clapped his hands together, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Great. I’ll get the costumes. You figure out how to keep Max from biting us.” Molly muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “I hate my life.” Bill ignored her, already scrolling through clown costume websites on his phone. The plan was ridiculous, dangerous, and almost certainly doomed to fail. But, Molly thought as she stared at the map, it might just be crazy enough to work.