Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5XYNWHSH7P0RC2BNX8NHF

Molly adjusted the fake mustache and frowned at Bill. "You sure this is the best disguise? Feels a bit... obvious." Bill adjusted the matching mustache and grinned. "Nobody suspects a clown with a mustache, Mol. It’s psychological warfare. They’ll be too busy wondering why we have mustaches to notice we’re stealing." Molly sighed. "Or they’ll wonder why two clowns look like they’re smuggling caterpillars on their faces." She peered through the binoculars at the backyard party below. Balloons, cake, and a piñata shaped like a unicorn—guarded by a horde of sugared-up six-year-olds. "I still think the hard part’s gonna be getting past Tiny Tim over there." Bill followed her gaze to a particularly ferocious toddler pile-driving another into the grass. "Eh. Kid chaos works in our favor. Distraction central." He tapped the blueprint spread between them. "Now, the presents are all stacked by the bouncy castle. Simple grab-and-go." "Simple? There’s, like, twenty hyperactive sentinels between us and the loot." "That’s why we’ve got *this*." Bill pulled a jumbo bag of candy from his duffel. Molly groaned. "You’re bribing them? That’s your masterstroke?" "It’s not a bribe. It’s *tactical redistribution.*" He shook the bag. "I toss theวรรณ candy east, kids stampede east. You grab the goods west. Boom." She stared. "That only works if none of them have object permanence." "That’s why they’re perfect targets. They think peek-a-boo is dark magic." A scream pierced the air as Tiny Tim mounted another child like a rodeo. Molly rubbed her temples. "Okay, fine. But if this goes south, I’m blaming you *and* your ridiculous mustache." 은 Bill saluted. "Deal. Ready for Operation: Sugar Overload?" Molley adjusted her clown shoes—twice the size of her actual feet. "Let’s just hope nobody asks us to actually *clown*." Bill scoffed. "Please. How hard can balloon animals be?" He blew up a balloon, twisted it, and—*pop*. A deflated worm flopped into his palm. Molley deadpanned. "We’re doomed." Bill chucked the candy bag into the fray. "Nah. We’re professionals." The candy rained down like manna from heaven. Tiny Tim’s head snapped up. The horde froze, then *charged*. Molley bolted for the presents. Bill tripped over his shoes and face-planted into the grass. A tiny voice piped up beside him. "Mister Clown? You okay?" Bill lifted his head, grass sticking to his mustache. "Just… clowning around, kid." Molley stuffed armfuls of gifts into her sack, then froze as a mom narrowed her eyes. "Can I help you?" Molley forced a grin. "Party… cleanup crew?" The mom crossed her arms. "The party’s not over." Bill popped up beside Molley, mustache askew. "Early birds get the… uh… presents?" The mom sighed. "Nice try." Molley dropped the sack. "Run for it!" Bill yelped, clown shoes flapping, as they bolted for the fence—giftless, but hilariously alive.