Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAG73GXC8YWW7J61SAH33E

“Right, so let me get this straight,” Bill said, meticulously polishing his sunglasses with a napkin pilfered from a diner. “We’re robbing…a birthday party?” Molly rolled her eyes, expertly picking the lock on a suspiciously flimsy briefcase. “It’s not *robbing*, Bill, it’s…strategic gift acquisition. And yes. Little Timmy Henderson is turning six. His parents clearly have money to burn, and judging by the guest list, everyone’s bringing excessively overpriced plastic junk.” “Excessively overpriced plastic junk that’s going to a six-year-old,” Bill pointed out. “Feels…low, even for us.” Molly snapped the briefcase open, revealing a frankly alarming array of suction cups, miniature grappling hooks, and a tiny drone painted to resemble a ladybug. “Low? Bill, we once extracted a priceless Faberge egg from a chihuahua. A chihuahua! This is practically humanitarian work. Think of the resale value on a limited edition Robo-Rex!” “Robo-Rex?” “Apparently. Timmy’s obsessed. It’s the centerpiece of the gift table. That’s where we focus.” “Focus. Right. And the plan?” Bill asked, still looking dubious. He put the sunglasses on, despite being indoors. “Simple. You create a diversion. Something…loud. Maybe a rogue clown?” “A rogue clown? Molly, seriously?” “It’s a children’s party, Bill! They *expect* a clown! A slightly unhinged one won't raise any eyebrows. Just juggle flaming torches, accidentally release a flock of pigeons, the usual.” Bill groaned. “Flaming torches. Pigeons. My union rep is going to have a field day with this one.” “Just picture it,” Molly said, ignoring him, and unfurling a detailed floor plan of the Henderson’s backyard. “While everyone’s distracted by your…performance, I slip through the back patio, disable the security – a pathetic motion sensor, honestly – and sweep the present table. In and out, clean and efficient.” “What about the parents?” “They’ll be too busy trying to figure out why a clown is setting the inflatable castle on fire.” “Hopefully. What if Timmy starts crying?” Molly sighed. "Bill, don't you *dare* get sentimental on me now. This is a professional operation. Think of the Robo-Rex. Think of the…the miniature train set I spotted on the registry." “A train set? Okay, you’re talking my language now. But still. A birthday party. Feels a bit…Grinchy.” “It feels lucrative, Bill. That’s what it feels. Now, are you in, or are you gonna sit here and wax poetic about childhood innocence while I raid the gift table solo?” Bill adjusted his sunglasses again. “Fine. Rogue clown it is. But I’m getting hazard pay.” “Just try not to accidentally sit on any of the children.”