Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9AENSF27F11YKW1YEK5W8

The aroma of sugar cookies and forced merriment hung thick in the air of the ‘Fun House’ planning room. Molly, draped in a ludicrously oversized inflatable flamingo, tapped a laser pointer on a blueprint of Mrs. Higgins’ annual “Sparkle & Smiles” children's party. Bill, meanwhile, was meticulously constructing a miniature replica of the bouncy castle out of pipe cleaners and chewing gum. “Right,” Molly declared, the flamingo bobbing with the force of her words, “Operation Sugar Rush is a go. We're hitting Higgins’ house Saturday. Prime target: the presents. Think of it, Bill! Mountains of plastic weaponry, talking dolls, possibly even a miniature pony. A child’s wildest dreams, ripe for the taking.” Bill meticulously attached a gummy bear to the bouncy castle’s peak. "A pony, you say? Highly unlikely, Molly. Higgins is a woman of refined…tastes. I'm thinking more along the lines of licensed character lunchboxes. And possibly a remote-controlled car or two.” “Details, details,” Molly waved her hand dismissively, nearly knocking over a bowl of M&Ms. “The point is, it's a treasure trove! Higgins spends more on party favors than I do on rent. This is our big break, Bill. We're talking early retirement, a beach in Barbados, and flamingo-shaped piñatas as far as the eye can see.” Bill squinted at his miniature castle. “But the security? Higgins is notoriously paranoid. Last year she hired a man dressed as a giant carrot to patrol the perimeter.” “The carrot’s gone, apparently. A rogue bunny got to him. I have my sources,” Molly said with a wink. “Besides, we have a plan. A brilliant plan, may I add - devised by yours truly.” She beamed, then promptly tripped over the flamingo's neck. Bill sighed, carefully adjusting the gum-based turret on his bouncy castle. "Let's just review the basics. You’re going to create a diversion. Distract the adults. What's the plan this time?” “I’m going to impersonate a clown,” Molly announced with unsettling enthusiasm. "A very, very sad clown. Tearful, existential clown. The kind that gets people talking and worrying about their own mortality. Should buy us some time." She practiced a mournful sniffle, nearly popping the flamingo. “A sad clown?” Bill repeated, deadpan. “Molly, we’re stealing presents from children. A sad clown feels a *bit* much, don’t you think? Maybe something less… emotionally taxing? Like, I dunno, a balloon animal artist with a crippling fear of pigeons?” “Pigeons aren't scary, Bill! And think of the sympathy vote! People love a sad clown. They’ll offer me tissues, cookies, possibly even a small donation! All while you're slipping in, grabbing the loot, and escaping through the inflatable obstacle course I’ve cleverly procured.” She pointed to a deflated obstacle course leaning against the wall. “See? Synergy!” Bill examined the pipe-cleaner bouncy castle with a critical eye. "Synergy is a strong word. This whole operation feels…precariously balanced. And I'm still concerned about the carrot's replacement. What if it's a badger this year? Badgers are vicious." “Badgers are easily distracted by shiny objects, Bill. And we have plenty of those. Now, are you on board with Operation Sugar Rush, or are you going to spend the rest of the afternoon building miniature bouncy castles? Because my clown makeup isn’t getting any sadder on its own.”