Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF09EZS08D8KM1JZW82KME

Molly leaned against thewall, her eyes fixed on the brightly colored balloons bobbing above the backyard. Bill paced, his fingers drumming on his thigh. "Okay, here's the thing," he said, his voice low but urgent. "We hit the party. Tonight. The one with the giant inflatable castle and the clown who smells like expired cheese." Molly snorted. "The one where the kids are so hyper they're bouncing off the walls like pinballs? Yeah, I see it. What's the plan, genius? Sneak in when the parents are too busy arguing over who left the grill on?" Bill waved a dismissive hand. "No, no. We blend in. We're the parents. We brought the cake. We're here for the... uh... 'adult supervision' thing. The parents will be too busy trying not to trip over the streamers to notice us." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do we explain the sack full of presents we're carrying out? Are we going to say we're 'returning' them? Because that's not suspicious at all." Bill grinned, a manic glint in his eye. "Simple. We're the 'gift recovery team.' The clown lost them. We found them. We're just returning them to the rightful owners. The parents will be thrilled. They'll probably give us cookies." Molly shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're insane. And you smell like last week's dumpster. But okay, let's hear the 'genius' part." Bill leaned in conspiratorially. "The clown. He's the key. He's got a weak spot. He's terrified of... balloons. Specifically, balloon animals. He once told me, in confidence, that he can't stand the way they squeak. It gives him nightmares." Molly snorted. "So we scare him with a balloon? That's your master plan?" "Exactly!" Bill exclaimed. "We bring a giant, terrifying balloon dog. We make it squeak. He panics, drops the presents. We grab them and run. Easy peasy." Molly stared at him. "You want us to steal presents from a kids' party by scaring the clown with a balloon? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And how do we even get the balloon dog past security? The parents have eyes like hawks." Bill shrugged. "We improvise. We'll find one. Maybe borrow it from the kid who's obsessed with it. We'll just... take it. It's a heist, Molly. We improvise." Molly sighed, looking back at the party. The sound of children's laughter, the smell of cake and sweat, the sheer, overwhelming chaos of it all. "Fine," she muttered. "But if we get caught, it's your fault. And you're buying the clown therapy." Bill beamed. "Deal. Now, let's go make our grand entrance as the world's worst parents. Remember, act natural. Don't trip over the cake table. And for the love of all that's holy, don't let the balloon squeak until we're inside." Molly straightened her jacket, taking a deep breath. "Right. World's worst parents. Let's do this." She pushed off the wall, heading towards the gate, Bill right behind her, clutching a suspiciously large, slightly deflated balloon dog. The party was about to get a whole lot more interesting.