Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5WW5DCHEYWVVWFG0W78SQ

Molly leaned against the hood of their beat-up van, arms crossed. "Okay, so we hit the party at 3 PM sharp. Everyone will be distracted by the clown." Bill squinted at the crumpled map in his hands. "A clown? You didn’t mention a clown, Moll. I hate clowns." "Relax, it’s just a guy in makeup. He’ll be juggling or something. We grab the presents, toss ’em in the van, and vanish. Easy." "Easy? What if the kids see us? You know how kids are—they scream. And parents *notice* screams." "So we dress up. Wear a mouse costume or something. Blend in." Bill stared at her. "A mouse costume? I’m not wearing a mouse costume. What’s next, you gonna ask me to wear ears and squeak?" Molly smirked. "Actually, squeaking might help. Always good to commit to the role." Bill groaned. "Why’d I agree to this? Stealing from a kids’ party feels... wrong." "Wrong? Bill, those presents are wrapped in shiny paper just screaming to be stolen. It’s not wrong—it’s efficient." "Yeah, but what if we get caught? They’ll throw us in jail, and I’ll have to share a cell with someone who *likes* clowns." Molly patted his shoulder. "Stay focused, Bill. Think of the loot. Think of the glory. Think of... not getting caught." Bill sighed. "Fine. But I’m not squeaking."