Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQAH6MMZMKJKX47PKDW5RH

The back room of the Tipsy Turtle Pub smelled like stale beer and regret, which was fitting, since that’s exactly what Molly and Bill were serving up tonight. Molly leaned against the sticky table, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the chipped wood. Bill, meanwhile, was hunched over a crumpled napkin, scribbling what he insisted was a "foolproof plan" with a crayon he’d stolen from a kid’s birthday party earlier that week. "You’re telling me," Molly said, squinting at the napkin, "that our grand strategy involves dressing up as clowns?" Bill didn’t look up. "Not just clowns. *Beloved* clowns. The kind kids trust. The kind parents hire to make their little angels laugh while they guzzle wine in the kitchen." Molly groaned. "I hate clowns. They’re just adults in face paint who’ve given up on dignity." "Exactly!" Bill jabbed the crayon at her. "No one suspects a clown. We waltz in, we juggle, we make balloon animals—" "Balloon animals?" Molly’s voice cracked. "You can’t even tie your own shoelaces." Bill waved a hand. "Details. The point is, while the kids are distracted by our *artistry*, we slip into the gift room, scoop up the loot, and vanish into the night." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "And what happens when the parents realize their kid’s new Xbox is missing?" "Simple," Bill said, grinning. "We blame the other clown." Molly stared at him. "There’s only one other clown." "Right. So we blame *him* extra hard." Molly sighed and reached for her drink, then thought better of it. The last time she’d drunk at the Tipsy Turtle, she’d woken up in a dumpster behind a pet store. "Fine. But if I have to wear a red nose, I’m taking the biggest present for myself." Bill clapped his hands. "Deal! Now, let’s talk wardrobe. I’ve got a rainbow wig and a jumpsuit with more sequins than a disco ball." Molly’s eye twitched. "Please tell me you didn’t steal that from a drag queen." Bill gasped, offended. "I would *never*. It was a *very* generous donation from a retired Vegas performer." Molly stood up, pushing her chair back with a screech. "I need air. And possibly a new partner." Bill grabbed her wrist. "Wait! Before you go, we need a code word. Something to signal when the coast is clear." Molly glared at him. "How about ‘the coast is clear’?" Bill shook his head. "Too obvious. What if the kids overhear? We need something *subtle*." Molly rubbed her temples. "Fine. How about ‘the piñata is full’?" Bill’s face lit up. "Perfect! Because when the piñata is full, the presents are—" "Unsupervised. Yeah, I got it." Molly yanked her arm free. "I’m going to go practice my juggling. With knives." Bill beamed. "That’s the spirit! Oh, and Molly?" She paused at the door. "What?" "Try not to stab anyone. We’re thieves, not murderers." Molly muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "yet" before slamming the door behind her. Bill turned back to his napkin, adding a little doodle of a clown holding a sack labeled "SWAG." He hummed to himself, already imagining the look on Molly’s face when they pulled this off. It was going to be *glorious*.