Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF8YX47J7DJWTWAATMPHH4

Molly bounced on her toes,eyes wide with manic energy. "Bill, this is it! The jackpot! A whole room full of presents! We just walk in, grab the shiny ones, and walk out. Easy as pie!" Bill adjusted his ill-fitting clown nose, squinting at the brightly colored decorations. "Molly, we’ve discussed this. Stealing presents from a children’s party is... problematic. For starters, there are toddlers. Tiny, screaming, unpredictable toddlers." "Problematic? Bill, it’s a *goldmine*! Think of the resale value! And the kids won’t even notice! They’re too busy eating cake and crying about broken balloons!" Molly gestured wildly at the partygoers. Bill sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "The *kids* are the least of our worries. It’s the parents. Especially the dads. You know the type. They look like they haven’t slept in weeks, their eyes are permanently bloodshot, and they’re armed with... what is that? A baseball bat? No, a plastic sword. But they’ll swing it at anything that moves. Including us." Molly grinned, undeterred. "Perfect! We’ll be like ninja clowns! Stealthy and terrifying! We’ll blend in with the decorations!" Bill pinched the bridge of his nose. "Blending in with the decorations is one thing. Getting past the *guard dogs*. That Great Dane, Brutus? He’s got a bark that could shatter glass. And he’s got a taste for shiny things. Like, say, a diamond-encrusted teddy bear." Molly’s grin faltered slightly. "Okay, maybe Brutus is an issue. But we can... distract him? With a squeaky toy? Or... more cake?" Bill shook his head. "Distracting Brutus is like trying to distract a freight train with a jelly bean. No. The real problem is the *noise*. We need absolute silence. But this party? It’s a symphony of chaos. There’s the birthday song, the cake smash, the inevitable tantrum when little Timmy doesn’t get the red truck he wanted. How do we move silently through that?" Molly clapped her hands together. "Simple! We become part of the chaos! We dance! We sing! We make it look like we belong here! We’re the entertainment! The surprise clowns!" Bill stared at her, aghast. "Molly, we are not entertainers. We are thieves. Disguised thieves. Disguised thieves who are about to commit grand larceny in a preschool. This is not a Broadway show." Molly twirled, knocking over a pinata. "But it could be! Think of the entrance! We burst through the door, confetti cannons going off, and we’re the stars of the show! While everyone’s distracted by our... *performance*... we grab the presents! It’s foolproof!" Bill stared at the scattered candy and the now-silent crowd. "Molly, the only thing foolproof about this is that we’ll get caught. And when we do, it won’t be by the parents. It’ll be by the toddlers. Little Emily here just pointed at me and said, 'Bad man.' With her finger. Pointing. Directly. At. Me." Molly shrugged. "She’s just jealous. We’re going to be the coolest clowns she ever saw. Once we give her that sparkly tiara we’re definitely stealing." Bill groaned, covering his eyes. "This is a terrible idea. A spectacularly terrible idea. But... the presents. They are so shiny. And the resale value... it’s tempting. Very tempting. Okay. Fine. We do it. But only if we wear full-body glitter suits. And we bring earplugs. And a very large, very quiet dog. Brutus’s quiet twin." Molly beamed. "Deal! Glitter suits it is! Now, where do we get clown noses that don’t look like cheap party favors? Bill, you’re on nose duty. I’ll handle the distraction... and the actual stealing. You just... don’t trip over the tricycle again." Bill muttered something about "disappearing into the cake," but a small, reluctant smile touched his lips. "Just... try not to draw too much attention, okay? The last thing we need is the police showing up because a clown stole all the presents."