Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5STDMKGAHWW9PGMM7P8V9

The warehouse was drafty, the kind of place where even the rats wore tiny sweaters. Molly tapped her foot impatiently against the concrete floor, her neon pink ski mask pushed up to her forehead like a rebellious headband. Across from her, Bill squinted at a crayon-drawn map of the target location—Happy Land Daycare’s Annual Birthday Bash. "You sure this is the right place?" Bill asked, scratching his stubble. "Looks like a five-year-old drew it." Molly snatched the map back. "That’s because a five-year-old *did* draw it. His name’s Timmy. I bribed him with a lollipop." Bill sighed. "We’re taking career advice from a kid who eats glue." "It’s genius," Molly insisted. "No one expects thieves to hit a kiddie party. Security’s lax, parents are distracted, and the loot’s all wrapped up nice and neat." Bill frowned. "What kind of loot are we talking? Action figures? Stuffed unicorns?" "Think bigger," Molly said, grinning. "Designer toy sets, gold-plated rattles, those weird organic kale teething biscuits rich people buy. Plus, cash in the cards. It’s a goldmine." Bill rubbed his temples. "I swore I’d never stoop this low after the geriatric bingo hall fiasco." "That was different," Molly said. "Those grandmas cheated." A pause. The overhead light flickered ominously. "So what’s the plan?" Bill finally asked. Molly unfolded another crayon masterpiece—this one labeled *OPERASHUN PRESNTS STEEL* in wobbly letters. "We go in disguised as clowns." Bill’s eye twitched. "Clowns." "Nobody questions clowns at a kid’s party. We blend in, distract with balloon animals, load the gifts into a giant ‘magic’ box, and vanish before anyone notices." Bill stared at her. "You realize I’m allergic to balloons, right?" Molly waved a hand. "Minor detail. Just don’t inhale the latex." "And if the kids want actual balloon animals?" "Then you’d better YouTube ‘how to twist a poodle’ in the next ten minutes." Bill groaned. "I miss the days when we robbed banks like normal criminals." Molly tossed him a rainbow wig. "Adapt or perish, Bill. The future is sparkly and full of juice boxes." He caught the wig with the enthusiasm of a man facing a firing squad. "If we get caught, we’re gonna be the ones in diapers." Molly adjusted her oversized clown shoes with a smirk. "Then let’s not get caught." Somewhere in the distance, a child’s laughter echoed. Or maybe it was the universe, laughing at them.