Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQA4F1ZQPS5JJXGT9PPNYN

Molly adjusted her oversized clown wig and glared at Bill. “You’re telling me the *best* time to hit the piñata stash is *during* the cake?” Bill wiped frosting from his fake mustache. “Kid’s blowing out candles, parents are distracted, magician’s setting himself on fire—classic misdirection. We’re in, we’re out, we’re swimming in unassembled LEGO sets.” “And if some six-year-old recognizes us from the *last* birthday we hit?” “Then we tell ‘em we’re *different* clowns. Molly, there’s like twelve of us in this van. It’s a *target-rich environment* for plausible deniability.” Molly sighed. “Fine. But if I have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ one more time, I’m taking a hostage.” Bill grinned. “Attagirl. Now, you grab the gift table, I’ll handle the goody bags. And if anyone asks—” “We’re the *entertainment*.” “Damn right. And if little Timmy starts crying?” Molly cracked her knuckles. “Then Timmy learns why clowns *really* have big shoes.” She grabbed the whoopee cushion. “Let’s go ruin some childhoods.”