Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQJYNTFCX4NBV7XS40WYX5

The clown car sputtered to a stop half a block from the birthday bash, its rainbow-striped bumper sagging like a deflated whoopee cushion. Molly adjusted the elastic on her oversized polka-dot bowtie and squinted through the windshield at the backyard chaos: a piñata shaped like a unicorn hemorrhaging candy, a bouncy castle listing like a drunk giraffe, and a mountain of presents stacked taller than the fence. “You sure about the glitter bomb?” Bill whispered, his voice muffled by the rubber nose he’d forgotten to remove. Molly flicked a sequin off her sleeve. “It’s not a bomb, it’s a distraction. Kids love glitter. Parents hate it. Physics does the rest.” Bill peered at the clipboard balanced on his lap, where a crayon-drawn map of the yard was annotated with stick-figure stick-ups. “What if the birthday kid’s dad is, like, a ninja or something?” “Then we apologize, offer to clean up the glitter, and steal his wallet while he’s distracted by the apology.” She popped the glove compartment and pulled out two neon-orange vests labeled “Party Inspector.” “Besides, no self-respecting ninja wears a ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ apron.” Bill sighed, adjusting the vest over his striped shirt. “I still think we should’ve gone for the petting zoo heist. Less glitter, more goats.” Molly grinned, already halfway out the door. “Where’s your sense of whimsy, Bill? This is basically a public service—teaching kids that no gift is safe, not even from a couple of clowns in vests.” She tossed him a handful of confetti. “Now move. The piñata’s about to blow.”