Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8Z2YE5Q4SJVB3CKDXYRHZ

Molly hunched over the rickety kitchen table, her finger jabbing at a blurry photo of a sprawling backyard decked in pink balloons and a mountain of gift-wrapped boxes. Bill paced behind her, gnawing on a stale pretzel, his eyes darting like a ferret spotting a trap. "Listen up, Bill," Molly said, slapping the photo. "This ain't no bank vault. It's little Timmy Turner's eighth birthday bash. Rich parents, spoiled brats, presents stacked like a piñata exploded. We hit at peak chaos—cake time." Bill stopped pacing, crumbs tumbling from his mustache. "Cake time? You wanna dodge sugar-high gremlins? Those kids are tiny tornadoes, Mol. One scream and we're piñata fodder." Molly grinned, pulling out a clown wig from a duffel bag. "That's the beauty. Disguises. You juggle balloons as 'Captain Chuckles.' I slip in as the face-painter fairy. We mingle, grab the loot during games." Bill snatched the wig, holding it like toxic waste. "Clown? Me? Last time I wore red nose, a dog bit it off. And face paint? What if some rugrat draws a dick on my cheek?" "Exactly!" Molly laughed, sketching on a napkin. "Distraction gold. You honk horns, kids swarm you. I hit the gift table—remote-control cars, iPads, gold-plated Legos. Bag 'em in these oversized party sacks. Poof, gone by magician's smoke bomb." Bill squinted at the napkin, which looked like a drunk spider's web. "Entry? Bouncy castle's got guards—er, valets. And the clown car? Ours is a rustbucket Pinto." "Park two blocks out," Molly shot back. "Scale the hedge in these inflatable sumo suits. Bounce right over. Exit same way, presents bouncing behind like naughty elves." Bill rubbed his chin, warming up. "Timing's key. Cake at three, presents at four. We ghost by four-fifteen. Split fifty-fifty? I call dibs on the drone." Molly high-fived him. "Deal. But if a kid cries, you diaper duty. No backing out, chuckles." Bill puffed his chest. "Heist of the century. Kids'll think Santa came early—grouchy version." They clinked beer cans, the map fluttering as laughter echoed. Outside, a squirrel eyed their getaway van suspiciously, but Molly and Bill were too deep in giggles to notice. The plan was bonkers, but in their world, bonkers paid the rent. Little did they know, Timmy's dad owned the town's only clown rental shop—and Captain Chuckles was already double-booked.