Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYA662EXFABBMBJ55BXN1HT

The neon glow of the party store’s sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized bow tie in the rearview mirror. "You sure about this, Bill? Last time we hit a kid’s party, we got chased by a six-year-old with a glitter cannon." Bill, already halfway out of the car, paused to light a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. "That was one time, Molly. And besides, this isn’t just any party—this is the *Smith twins’* birthday bash. You ever seen the size of those presents? One of ‘em’s got a *remote-controlled dragon* in there. That thing’s got to be worth at least three hundred bucks." Molly leaned over, squinting at the invitation in her lap. "Three hundred bucks? Bill, that’s not a dragon, that’s a *toy*. And it’s got *wings that flap*." "Exactly! High-end plastic, Molly. Precision-engineered. Probably imported from some fancy factory where they charge extra for the *sad trombone sound effect*." She sighed, pushing open her door. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for not bringing the distraction plan." Bill grinned, tossing her a small, wrapped box. "Distraction’s already handled. You just gotta play along." Molly caught the box, eyeing it suspiciously. "What is this?" "Open it." She ripped off the paper to reveal a single, slightly singed sparkler. "Bill. This is a *sparkler*." "Yep. And it’s gonna be *very* useful." The backyard of the Smith twins’ house was a kaleidoscope of balloons and laughter. Molly adjusted her clown nose—real this time—and sidled up to the snack table. "Hey there, birthday boy! You got any cake left?" A little girl in a sparkly dress pointed at the half-eaten sheet cake. "No! Mommy said no more!" Molly gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh no! I must’ve brought my own cake by mistake!" She pulled out a suspiciously identical box from her oversized clown pants. "Here, let me just—whoopsie!" The box "accidentally" tipped over, sending a cloud of flour into the air. Bill, disguised as a slightly unhinged magician, "accidentally" knocked over a stack of cups. "Oops! My hands are *magic*!" Chaos erupted. Kids screamed, parents cursed, and Molly seized the moment. "Now, Bill!" Bill struck the sparkler against the fence. It fizzled weakly. "Uh. Maybe I should’ve tested it." Molly groaned. "You *lit it wrong*!" "Details!" Bill dove into the pile of presents under the tree, grabbing a giant stuffed unicorn. "Quick, grab the—" A voice cut through the noise. "Hey! What are you two doing?" Molly turned to see the twins’ dad, arms crossed. "Oh! We’re just… uh… *aerobics instructors*!" Bill, still clutching the unicorn, nodded. "Very *flexible* instructors." The dad blinked. "At a *children’s party*?" Molly forced a smile. "We’re *very* committed to our craft*." Bill, in a panic, tossed the unicorn back onto the pile. "See? We were just… admiring the *craftsmanship*." The dad stared at them. Then at the sparkler in Bill’s hand. Then at the half-empty present pile. Molly swallowed. "So. You gonna call the cops, or…?" Bill pulled out the singed sparkler. "Or we could *negotiate*?" The dad sighed. "Get out of my yard." As they sprinted back to the car, Molly groaned. "We got *nothing*!" Bill held up a single, slightly crumpled invitation. "I got the *location* of the next party. *Better presents*." Molly groaned again. "Bill, we’re *thieves*, not *party crashers*." Bill grinned, revving the engine. "Relax, Molly. Next time, we bring *real* fireworks."