Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5MYW9FTQ9MC7N1JE3XSAZ

The cramped apartment smelled like burnt coffee and old takeout. Molly traced a finger over the wrinkled blueprint of the Donovan estate, her brow furrowed. Bill, perched on a wobbly barstool, tossed a handful of candy corn into his mouth and grinned. "You're kidding, right? A *kids'* party? That's our big score?" he said, crumbs spraying. Molly shot him a look. "It’s *Bryce Donovan's* kid’s party. Billionaire hedge fund guy. You think the presents are gonna be dollar store slinkies?" Bill leaned back. "I dunno. Feels wrong. Stealing from a bunch of snot-nosed brats." Molly smacked the blueprint. "We’re not *stealing* from kids—we’re *liberating* overpriced toys from a guy who probably bought them to write off taxes. And anyway, half those rich toddlers won’t even notice. They’ll be too busy crying because their gold-plated rattles aren’t diamond-encrusted." Bill rubbed his chin, considering. "Alright, fine. But how do we even get in? Ain't exactly low-profile." Molly smirked. "We go as clowns." Bill choked on his candy corn. "*Clowns?*" "Yep. Perfect cover. Nobody questions a clown. And before you say it—no, you won’t look stupid." "I *absolutely* will look stupid," Bill grumbled. "*More* stupid, then. But who cares? By the time anyone realizes we’re stuffing gift bags into a getaway wagon, we’ll be halfway to Mexico with enough resale value to retire." Bill sighed. "Fine. But I pick the clown name." "Deal." "Binky the Destroyer." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "No." "Too late. Already committed." He stood, puffing out his chest. "Binky’s got a nose for loot. And *honk*." He mimed squeezing a horn. Molly groaned. "We are *so* getting caught." "Not if we move fast," Bill said, suddenly serious. "In and out during the magician act. All eyes on the stage, zero on the loot pile." Molly nodded. "And the exit?" "Balloon animals. Distraction and escape vehicle." She blinked. "You know balloon animals can’t *actually* carry people, right?" Bill winked. "Not with that attitude." Molly tossed a stress ball at his head. He caught it, laughing. "Alright, Binky. Let’s go steal some toys." Bill clapped his hands. "Honk, honk, motherf—" "*Don’t*."