Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPMKJKDG5CCXX2V31M15AJ

The neon glow of the *Dazzle & Delight Party Emporium* sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized clown nose in the rearview mirror. Beside her, Bill fiddled with a party popper, accidentally setting it off with a *BANG!* that sent glitter raining down onto the dashboard. “You’re a menace,” Molly said, brushing sparkles off her black turtleneck. “We’re supposed to be *inconspicuous*, not look like we just robbed a unicorn’s birthday.” Bill grinned, his teeth smudged with what might’ve been blue frosting—or possibly evidence. “Relax. Kids love glitter. We’ll blend right in.” “Kids love *everything*. That’s why we’re here.” Molly tapped the blueprint of the party venue, a sprawling mansion rented out for little Timothy Whitmore’s *Pirate Extravaganza*. “Security’s a joke. One rent-a-cop, a nanny who’s definitely napping in the pantry, and a dad who’s three mimosas deep by now.” “What’s the play?” Bill cracked his knuckles, then winced—he’d superglued a fake ruby ring to his finger earlier for “practice.” “We go in as entertainers. You’re *Bubbles the Clown*—” “Finally, my big break.” “—and I’m *Magic Molly*, the world’s most unconvincing magician. We ‘perform,’ distract the adults, and while I’m pulling a rabbit out of my hat, you’re pulling iPads out of the gift table.” Bill squinted at the invite. “Wait, the kid’s *nine*. Who gives a nine-year-old an iPad?” “Rich people.” Molly tossed him a bag of balloons. “Inflate these. And for God’s sake, don’t make any *actual* animal shapes. You did that last time, and now there’s a giraffe floating over I-95 with your fingerprints on it.” Bill blew into a balloon, his cheeks puffing like a chipmunk’s. “I *told* you, that was an accident. Also, giraffes *can’t* fly. That’s slander.” Molly ignored him, adjusting the fake mustache she’d glued to her upper lip. “Timing’s key. The piñata drops at 3:15. That’s our cue. Chaos, screaming, free candy—perfect cover.” “What if the piñata’s a dud? Like, what if it’s just, I dunno, *one* Snickers and a bunch of coupons?” “Then you *make* chaos. Trip a kid. Start a rumor about cooties. I don’t care. Just get those presents into the van.” Bill nodded, then paused. “Hey, what’s our exit strategy?” “We walk out the front door.” “With a van full of stolen goods?” “While wearing clown makeup and carrying a piñata stick. Who’s gonna stop us?” Molly smirked. “Worst case, we tell ‘em we’re taking the leftovers to an *orphanage*.” Bill’s eyes widened. “That’s evil.” “That’s *efficient*.” She checked her watch. “Showtime. Remember—no talking to the kids. You start telling knock-knock jokes, we’re both going to jail.” “Too late.” Bill grinned as he hopped out of the car, a balloon sword in hand. “Hey, Molly, why did the thief bring a ladder to the party?” Molly groaned. “Why?” “Because he heard the *gifts were out of this world*!” She considered shoving him into traffic. Instead, she adjusted her top hat and sighed. “Let’s go rob some rich kids.”