Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8HXXX7KKRDDBYV0BTY679

Molly hunched over the kitchen table in their dingy apartment, a crumpled party invitation spread out like a treasure map. Bill paced, twirling a lockpick like a baton. "Listen, Bill," Molly said, eyes gleaming. "It's perfect. Rich kid's birthday bash at the mansion. Balloons, cake, and a mountain of presents—unwrapped, so no fuss. We slip in dressed as clowns, grab the loot, and vanish before the piñata bursts." Bill snorted, stopping to gawk. "Clowns? Molly, you couldn't juggle a beach ball without dropping it. And kids? They'll swarm us like piranhas. What if one bites?" She waved him off. "We'll stuff our faces with face paint and fake noses. You do the silly walk, I'll distract with balloon animals. Swipe the big boxes—Xbox, bikes, that pony statue thing. Easy peasy." "Pony statue? That's not a present, that's yard art!" Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "And the parents? Snooty types with security cams. One wrong honk on that clown horn, and we're busted faster than a bad magic trick." Molly grinned wickedly. "That's why we go at cake time—chaos city. Kids hyped on sugar, adults tipsy on punch. We'll be ghosts in greasepaint. Richest haul since that bakery caper." Bill sighed, smirking. "Fine, but if a toddler tackles me, you're bribing the cop with leftover cupcakes." "Deal," she laughed. "To the clown car!"