Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA2K0SPTZXPR5AB44JDG3K

Molly hunched over the rickety kitchen table in their dingy apartment, maps of the neighborhood spread out like a treasure hunt gone wrong. Bill paced, twirling a lockpick like a deranged baton. "Listen, Bill, this gig's gold—Mrs. Hargrove's kid turns six tomorrow. Whole backyard's loaded with presents from doting aunts. We slip in as clowns, grab the loot, and poof, we're ghosts." Bill snorted, stopping to mimic a sad trombone. "Clowns? Molly, I look like a depressed walrus in face paint. Last time I tried a disguise, the cops thought I was a escaped mime." She grinned, tapping the blueprint. "That's the beauty! Kids won't question us. We'll juggle the gift bags right out the gate. You handle the piñata—slash it open, blame the birthday boy." "Piñata heist? Genius. But what if the parents spot us? 'Hey, officer, two bozos just ransacked the candy?'" Molly leaned in, eyes sparkling. "We cry. Big, fake tears. 'We're just entertainers down on our luck!' Then we bolt with the bikes we 'borrowed' from the yard. Easy peasy." Bill chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Fine, but if a kid tugs my nose, I'm dropping the act and running." "Deal. Operation Candy Caper starts at noon. No backing out, partner." (198 words)