Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09RVQPGWFH8MKX2NNPCZC7

Molly and Bill sat in the back of their van, surrounded by maps and sketches of the party venue. Molly held the schematics of the building, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We can't just walk in the front door," Bill said, munching on a sandwich. "Obviously," Molly replied, rolling her eyes. "We'll pose as caterers. It's perfect." Bill choked on his sandwich. "Caterers? Have you seen my tie? I look like a guy who steams vegetables, not one who carries silver platters." Molly snatched the bread from his hand. "Fine, we'll be clowns. No one suspects clowns." "But we're not funny!" Bill protested. "We're criminals. We specialize in, like, jewel heists and bank jobs." "Exactly! We're versatile." Molly tapped the map. "We go in at the height of the cake cutting. Everyone's distracted, kids are screaming, parents are clapping—perfect cover." Bill sighed. "What if someone recognizes us?" "Then we say we're new in town. Or cousins of the birthday kid." Molly grinned. "Trust me, Bill. This'll work."