Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ9554W0SETYNSFTDT97679F

Molly tapped a pen on a crudely drawn map of a suburban house, spread across their cramped kitchen table. Empty coffee cups and biscuit crumbs were pushed to the side. "Tiffany's party. You’re sure of this, Bill?" Bill hummed, meticulously polishing a small, ornamental crowbar with a handkerchief. His eyes were sharp as he stared at the map. "Positive. Every bouncy castle, fairy-floss stand, every parent. Full recon." "Parental unit? It's a seven-year-old's birthday, not a military target." Molly's tone bordered on disbelief. "Mrs. Henderson. Ex-military. Rumour has it she disarms toddlers with a glare. And the prize table? Tripwires." Molly blinked. The pen paused mid-air. "Lasers around presents? Good lord." "High-end stuff, Molly. Furbies, Timmy's new VR headset. Serious loot," Bill argued, stroking the crowbar. "Plastic garbage. We're not going into active combat for a Furby." Molly rubbed her temples. "Ah, Princess Fluffybutt. Chihuahua of terror. Loud bark. Tripped a mailman once." Molly picked up her cold coffee. "So, your plan for the mom, lasers, motion sensor, and fluffy menace?" "Simple. Distraction, infiltration, exfiltration. We need a clown." Bill puffed out his chest, a flicker of pride. Molly laid the pen down with a sigh. "A clown. For petty larceny, really?" "Squeaky Pete. He's got charisma. He draws kids, we grab loot." Bill gestured. "Melting into the suburban night sounds elegant for Paw Patrol merchandise and a VR headset," Molly muttered, picturing the indignity. "Details, Molly. Timing. Mrs. Henderson steps away for her 'special' iced tea, Pete unleashes the balloon tornado, we go." "And the lasers?" "Broomstick trick. Again." Bill announced, beaming. "It nearly got us electrocuted last time, Bill. Flamingo incident?" "Minor oversight. This time, industrial-strength duct tape for sensors. Foolproof." Bill brandished a roll. Molly massaged her temples. "Duct tape and a clown for this kiddie plastic heist?" "Precisely. Getaway vehicle: the ice-cream truck." "The one that still plays 'Pop Goes the Weasel' at ear-splitting volume?" "Adds to chaos. Molly, nobody suspects the ice-cream man." Bill winked. "Nobody suspects the *competent* ice-cream man. You driving that thing, dead giveaway." "I've practiced my jingle: 'Ice Cream, Ice Cream, stolen at high speed!'" Bill hummed off-key. "No. Absolutely not. We are not broadcasting our crimes. Get presents, get out. Quietly. No balloon animals in our hideout." Molly pointed a stern finger. Bill chuckled, undeterred. "Spoilsport. Imagine Timmy’s face when his Furby’s gone." Molly just sighed, staring blankly at the map. "Broomstick. Clown. Ice cream truck. Let's pray these presents are worth this utter humiliation."