Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8KPTCT2QKDJHG6BC0QB5S

The back alley behind the community center smelled like burnt hot dogs and regret. Molly adjusted her ski mask, the elastic digging into her forehead like a guilty conscience. Bill fiddled with a lockpick, his breath fogging in the cold air. "Alright, genius," Molly said, nudging him with her elbow. "How’s the plan going? Still just ‘we show up, take the presents, and run’?" Bill didn’t look up. "It’s more refined than that. I’ve got a *system*." "Oh, fantastic. What’s the system?" He finally glanced at her, grinning. "Step one: We don’t get caught." Molly rolled her eyes. "Step two?" "Step two: We don’t get *seen*." "Bill, there’s gonna be *kids* there. And parents. And probably a clown." "Exactly. Clowns are *distractions*." "Clowns are *nightmares*." "Semantics. Look, the party’s in the rec room. We go in through the kitchen—" "—Which is *locked*." "—Which is why I brought *this*." He held up a hairpin like it was the Holy Grail. Molly stared. "You stole that from my sister." "Borrowed. And it’s *perfect*." She snatched it back. "It’s *yellow*." "So? It matches the napkins." Molly groaned. "We’re robbing a *children’s party*, Bill. Not a five-star restaurant." "Details. Now, once we’re inside, we—" "—We’re gonna have to *blend in*." Bill scoffed. "Blending in is for amateurs. We’re gonna *become* the party." "How?" "We dress as the clown’s assistants." Molly blinked. "You want us to wear *jester hats*?" "Worse. We wear *balloon animals*." She burst out laughing. "You’ve lost it." "No, I’ve *evolved*. Think about it—kids see balloons, they *ignore* us. Parents see balloons, they *distract* them. It’s *genius*." Molly wiped her eyes. "You’re insane." "Thank you. Now, the presents are under the tree—" "—Which is *guarded* by a *piñata*." "—Which we *smash*." Molly stared. "You want to *smash the piñata*?" "Why not? Candy everywhere. Kids scream. Chaos. *Perfect* cover." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Bill, we’re not animals." "We’re *thieves*." "With *ethics*." He sighed. "Fine. No piñata. But we *do* need a distraction. Something *big*." Molly grinned. "I’ve got an idea." Bill perked up. "Oh? What?" "We *become* the clown." Silence. Bill slowly turned to her. "…You’re worse than me." "No, I’m *better*. We show up late, all sweaty and disheveled, say we’re the clown’s *backup*, and then—" "—We *steal all the presents*." "—While the kids cheer because they think we’re *part of the fun*." Bill rubbed his hands together. "I *love* it." Molly adjusted her mask again. "Just don’t trip over any balloons." Bill gasped, offended. "I *do not* trip." "Last time, you tripped over a *potted plant*." "That was *one time*!" Molly smirked. "Alright, clown. Let’s go rob some kids." Bill grinned. "Best. Heist. Ever."