Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07SV0191WR19D68ZW152M2

Molly adjusted her rainbow wig in the rearview mirror, the van’s engine humming like a disgruntled stomach. "You sure this is the place?" Bill squinted at the house, wrapped in enough pastel-colored streamers to choke a clown. "Positive. Birthday parties are soft targets. Moms are tipsy, dads are pretending to understand princess-themed trivia, kids are too busy eating cake to notice a thing." Molly popped a bubblegum bubble. "What’s the play?" Bill ticked off on his fingers. "Phase one: You act as the overenthusiastic clown. Phase two: I ‘accidentally’ spill glitter dust everywhere. Phase three: While everyone’s sneezing and laughing, we redirect the treasure chest to the getaway van." Molly frowned. "I hate clowns." "Since when?" "Since always. They look like serial killers who took a bad acid trip." Bill sighed, grabbing a whoopee cushion from the glove box. "Fine. You can be the ‘sneaky elf’ who just ‘really loves gifts.’ Just look pretty and point at things." Molly grabbed the cushion and held it to his face like a knife. "I *am* pretty. And if you mess this up, I’m cushioning your parachute for the leap off the nearest bridge."