Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAH2753AKGNPKF2ZE2ZFYJ

Molly leaned over the rickety kitchen table, blueprints of the community center spread out like a toddler's finger-painting. Bill paced, gnawing on a stale pretzel. "Listen, Bill, the party's at noon. Kids everywhere, balloons, cake—perfect cover. We slip in as caterers, right? Grab the present pile while they're doing piñata whacks." Bill snorted, spraying crumbs. "Caterers? In these knockoff clown costumes? Molly, we'll look like escaped circus rejects. One kid screams 'bozo alert,' and we're toast." She smirked, twirling a lock of hair. "That's the genius! Kids love clowns. We'll juggle the gifts out—'Hey, kiddos, watch this!' Then stuff 'em in the van during the magician's smoke bomb." "Magician? What if he's legit? Poof—we're allergic to rabbits or something." Bill paused, eyes lighting up. "Nah, I got it. We dress as party characters. I'm Elmo, you're Dora. 'Swiper, no swiping!' Except we do. All the toys, bikes, cash envelopes—poof, gone!" Molly laughed, slapping the table. "Dora? I'd need a backpack full of sedatives. But yeah, Elmo's red fur hides bloodstains if things go south. In and out in ten minutes. The parents'll blame the Tooth Fairy." Bill grinned. "Or Santa on a bender. This haul's our Christmas in July. Let's do it—red noses at dawn!" She nodded, folding the map. "Deal. Just don't tickle me, Elmo."