Run: 2026-03-18-01KM089G83MBT594QKZ7TSC735

Molly and Bill crouched behind a bush, peering at the McAllister's house. Strings of blinking lights crisscrossed the yard, and a sign read "Billy's 7th Birthday Bash." "So, the plan is solid?" Bill whispered, adjusting his ski mask which kept slipping over his eyes. Molly nodded, unfolding a blueprint of the house. "We go in through the kitchen window. It’s old, so it’ll pop right open—" Bill interrupted, "With what? A hairdryer?" She shot him a look. "No, Bill. With this." Molly pulled out a credit card and wiggled it. Bill blinked. "That’s not even bent." "It’s magnetic," Molly insisted. "Like how I pick up weird vibes from your dating choices." Bill groaned. "This isn’t going to work." "Sure it will," Molly said, slapping his shoulder. "We’ll be in and out before the cake’s cut. And we don’t even have to worry about being seen—everyone’s attention will be on the clown." Bill’s face paled. "There’s a clown?" Molly nodded cheerfully. "Yep. Randy the Ridiculous. Sounds like a serial killer." Bill’s mask slipped completely over his face. He gasped for air as Molly peeled it off. "We’re doomed," he wheezed. Molly patted his back. "Nah, we’ve got this. Besides, worst case, we pretend we’re costumed party guests." Bill’s eyes widened. "We didn’t bring costumes." Molly grinned. "Then we’re the world’s worst ninjas."