Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9TF1X8M5MQ0F07HZ0JKNT

The neon glow of the party store’s sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized sunhat, the kind grandmas wear to hide their bald spots. Bill, perched on the fire escape outside the second-story window, kicked his legs like a bored toddler waiting for bedtime. “You sure this is the right place?” Bill whispered, peering down at the street below where a minivan idled with a parent honking impatiently. “Last time we hit a birthday party, we got chased by a kid with a water balloon.” Molly squinted through the binoculars, her breath fogging the lenses. “That was *one time*, and the kid was a menace. This one’s different. Look at all those presents under the tree. It’s like Christmas in July, but with more glitter.” Bill groaned. “I hate glitter. It’s like tiny, evil sparkles that judge me.” “Focus,” Molly hissed, tapping his shoulder. “The parents are all distracted by the cake-cutting ceremony. Now’s our window.” Bill glanced at his watch—a cheap plastic one he’d stolen from a gas station. “Window’s closed. The cake’s been cut. They’re handing out party favors.” Molly sighed, pulling a small device from her pocket. “Then we improvise. I brought a *distraction*.” She pressed a button, and somewhere inside the store, a high-pitched *beep-beep-beep* echoed, followed by a child’s scream. Bill’s eyes widened. “What was that?!” “Emergency exit alarm,” Molly said, grinning. “I hotwired it from a mall last week. Now every parent in here thinks the building’s on fire.” Bill swallowed hard. “You realize we’re about to rob a room full of screaming children, right?” “Exactly,” Molly said, already unhooking the grappling hook from her belt. “Chaos is our ally.” The window creaked as Bill pried it open with a butter knife. “You know, if we get caught, they’re gonna press charges. And not the fun kind.” Molly swung inside first, landing in a crouch near the gift table. “Relax. We’ll be long gone before the smoke clears.” She grabbed a stack of wrapped presents, stuffing them into her oversized purse. “Just keep an eye out for the birthday boy. He’s probably got a sword or something.” Bill peeked around the corner as a child in a superhero cape ran past, wielding a plastic lightsaber. “Or a *lightsaber*.” Molly froze. “Abort. Abort!” “Too late,” Bill muttered as the cape-wearing menace skidded to a halt, locking eyes with them. “Uh… happy birthday?” The kid tilted his head. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Molly forced a smile. “We’re, uh, the clowns?” Bill nodded vigorously. “Yeah! The *very* sad clowns!” The child narrowed his eyes. “Clowns don’t wear hats like that.” Molly’s brain raced. “We’re *undercover* clowns. Top secret.” The kid crossed his arms. “Prove it.” Bill panicked. “We’ll do a trick!” He pulled a quarter from his ear—well, *tried* to—and it clattered to the floor. The child sighed. “That’s not a trick. That’s just bad.” Molly grabbed Bill’s arm and yanked him toward the window. “We’re leaving. Now.” As they scrambled back onto the fire escape, the child’s voice followed them. “Hey! You forgot your presents!” Bill glanced back, horrified. “We *are* the presents.” Molly kicked him in the shin. “Shut up and run.”