Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAVDJWHGYBXCDQKQ6YKTTD

Molly adjusted her fake mustache in the dimly lit van parked across from the bustling suburban house, where balloons bobbed like drunken sailors and laughter echoed from the backyard. Bill, her partner in crime, fiddled with a clown costume that was two sizes too small, his gut straining against the polka-dotted fabric. "This is foolproof," Molly whispered, peering through binoculars at the pile of wrapped gifts under a pinata. "Kids' parties are chaos central. We'll blend in as entertainers, grab the loot during the cake smash, and vanish like ghosts." Bill snorted, adjusting his oversized shoes. "Entertainers? I look like a rejected circus reject. What if they ask for balloon animals?" Molly grinned. "Improvise. Twist a giraffe or something. Remember, the big score's in those presents—video games, toys, maybe even cash envelopes." A scream pierced the air as a kid face-planted into the bouncy castle. Bill chuckled. "Perfect distraction. Let's do this before I split these pants." They slipped out, hearts pounding with illicit thrill. Molly led, whispering, "Stick to the plan, no detours for punch." Bill nodded. "Got it. Heist of the century, here we come." As they approached, a toddler waddled over, eyeing Bill's wig. "You funny clown?" Bill froze. "Uh, yeah, kid. Abra-cadabra!" He mimed pulling a quarter from his ear, but dropped it in the grass. Molly stifled a laugh, dragging him toward the gift table. The party swirled around them—screaming children, harried parents, and a piñata bursting with candy. They stuffed presents into oversized sacks disguised as magic bags, dodging sticky hands and flying streamers. One nosy mom approached. "Are you the hired clowns?" Molly beamed. "Absolutely! Watch this!" She juggled three wrapped boxes, nearly dropping one. Bill added a honk from a fake nose. "Ta-da!" They escaped just as the birthday song started, vanishing into the night with their haul, giggling like the fools they were.