Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPE7RR79DPVYZVJCDQQA32

The rain drummed against the roof of the stolen ice cream truck as Molly adjusted the oversized clown wig in the rearview mirror. Beside her, Bill was busy stuffing his pockets with an assortment of stolen party favors—plastic whistles, bouncy balls, and a suspiciously large number of glow sticks. “You look ridiculous,” Bill said, tossing a rubber chicken onto the dashboard. Molly glared at him. “And you look like a guy who’s about to get arrested for stealing party favors.” “These are *tools*,” Bill said, holding up a whoopee cushion. “Distraction is key.” “Distraction? We’re breaking into a children’s party, not the Louvre.” “Exactly. Kids are *harder* to fool. They’ve got no respect for authority. If we get caught, they’ll just start throwing juice boxes at us.” Molly sighed and turned back to the mirror, adjusting the wig again. “Fine. But if I have to wear this, you’re wearing the giant mouse ears.” Bill scoffed. “No way. Those things are *evidence*. If we get caught, they’ll know exactly who we are.” “Oh, because a clown wig isn’t suspicious at all.” “It’s *festive*.” A sudden knock on the window made them both jump. A small girl in a unicorn onesie was peering in at them, her face smeared with cake frosting. “Are you the clowns?” she asked. Molly and Bill exchanged a panicked look. “Uh,” Bill said, clearing his throat. “Yes. Yes, we are. The *clowns*.” The girl squinted. “You don’t look like clowns.” “We’re *undercover* clowns,” Molly said quickly. “Very stealthy.” The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Cool. The party’s inside. There’s cake.” She pointed at the house, where a banner reading “Happy 6th Birthday, Timmy!” flapped in the wind. “Great,” Bill muttered. “We’re infiltrating a six-year-old’s birthday party.” Molly grabbed a bag of stolen balloons from the floor. “Just act natural. And try not to look like you’re about to rob the place.” “Too late,” Bill said, eyeing the pile of presents under the table. “I’m already in love.” They slipped inside, blending in with the chaos of children running around, parents sipping punch, and a very confused magician trying to perform a disappearing act on himself. Molly nudged Bill. “Okay, plan. You distract the parents, I’ll grab the presents.” “How do I distract them?” “Tell them you’re a child psychologist. They’ll eat it up.” Bill frowned. “I don’t know anything about kids.” “Neither do they.” Bill sighed and wandered over to a group of moms. “So, uh, have you noticed any… *behavioral patterns* in your children lately?” Molly rolled her eyes and made her way toward the presents. She was just reaching for a giant LEGO set when a tiny hand grabbed her wrist. “You’re not supposed to take those,” the unicorn girl said. Molly froze. “I—I was just… checking for quality control.” The girl tilted her head. “You’re a *bad* clown.” “No, no, I’m a *very* good clown. The *best* clown.” The girl crossed her arms. “Prove it.” Molly glanced at Bill, who was now deep in conversation with a dad about “attachment theory.” She had no choice. She grabbed a party hat from the table and plopped it on her head. “Ta-da!” she said, doing a terrible impression of a clown. “I’m a *magic* clown!” The girl stared at her. “That was bad.” “Yeah, well, I’m *undercover*.” The girl thought for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. But if you’re a clown, you have to make Timmy laugh.” Molly groaned. “Fine. Where’s Timmy?” The girl pointed at a boy in a superhero cape, who was currently trying to eat a cupcake with his feet. Molly took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.” Bill, still talking to the dad, gave her a thumbs-up. “You got this.” Molly marched over to Timmy, who looked up at her with frosting on his chin. “Hey, kid,” she said. “Want to see a trick?” Timmy shrugged. Molly reached into her pocket and pulled out the whoopee cushion Bill had given her. “Watch this.” She sat down, placed the cushion on the chair, and gestured for Timmy to sit. Timmy hesitated, then plopped down. The sound that followed was *glorious*. Timmy burst into laughter, and Molly grinned. “See? Magic.” The unicorn girl clapped. “You’re a *good* clown!” Molly winked. “Told you.” Bill, meanwhile, had successfully distracted the parents long enough for Molly to stuff three presents into her bag. As they slipped out the back door, the magician was still stuck in a box. “That was *too* easy,” Molly said, tossing the clown wig into the backseat. Bill grinned. “Kids are the best accomplices.” Molly revved the engine. “Next time, we hit a toddler’s tea party.” Bill groaned. “I hate you.” Molly laughed as they sped off into the night, the stolen presents bouncing in the backseat.