Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYBBHASH9HHZAET8D76RAQ7

The neon glow of the *Jolly Jamboree* banner flickered above the front door of the community center, casting a sickly pink hue over the parking lot. Molly adjusted her oversized clown wig, the elastic digging into her temples as she squinted at the locked side entrance. "This is either the worst idea we’ve ever had or the best," she muttered, more to herself than to Bill, who was already picking the lock with a bobby pin and a sigh. Bill didn’t look up. "It’s the best. Kids’ parties are *loaded*. Toys, candy, maybe even some of those stupid robot dogs that cost more than my first car. And the parents? They’re all too busy taking selfies to notice a couple of sad clowns lurking in the bushes." Molly crouched beside him, peering through the grimy window. Inside, a piñata swung lazily over a table groaning under the weight of wrapped presents. "We’re not sad clowns, we’re *festive* clowns. And also criminals." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of glow sticks, snapping them to life. "Here. For ambiance." Bill finally glanced at her, one eyebrow arched. "We’re breaking into a kids’ party. We don’t need ambiance." A distant giggle echoed from the other room. Molly froze. "Okay, new plan. We grab the presents, *very* quietly, and then—" Bill stood abruptly, knocking over a nearby trash can. It clattered against the door. "—we run like hell." Molly groaned. "You’re no fun."