Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9YFFRAEQY81EF2D445P8T

Molly leaned against the van's dashboard, eyeing the colorful balloons bobbing outside the suburban house. "Alright, Bill, listen up. This kids' party is our goldmine. Presents stacked like pancakes. We go in as clowns—big shoes, red noses, the works." Bill scratched his stubbly chin, grinning. "Clowns? Molly, you're a genius! I'll juggle while you swipe the gifts. But what if the brats spot us? They're like tiny detectives on sugar highs." "Easy—distract 'em with balloon animals. Twist a dog, a sword, whatever. While they're squealing, I bag the loot. Remember that time in Vegas? We nicked those slot machines dressed as Elvis?" Bill chuckled. "Yeah, but these ain't drunk gamblers. These are ankle-biters with sticky fingers. What if one cries? Or worse, calls for Mommy?" Molly smirked. "Improvise! Honk your nose, pie in the face—classic clown chaos. The parents'll think it's part of the show. We slip out the back with the presents in trash bags. Boom, payday!" Bill nodded eagerly. "Love it. But Molly, what about the cake? Can we snag a slice? I'm starving." She rolled her eyes. "Focus, you oaf! Presents first, dessert later. Now, let's paint these faces and crash this party." (198 words)