Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8VSS7BYKEZ870P1CVZWAAH

Molly spread a crude map across the greasy diner table, pointing a sharp nail at the sunroom layout. "The target is the gift table," she whispered. Bill sighed, leaning back in the cracked vinyl booth while nursing a lukewarm coffee. "It's a six-year-old's party, Molly." "Precisely. Maximum chaos. Minimum security." Bill gestured toward the oversized garment bags leaning precariously against the wall. "Are we really wearing these?" "The neon clown suits are essential for blending in," Molly insisted, her eyes gleaming. "I look like a giant, radioactive marshmallow." "Focus, Bill! At 1400 hours, the cake arrives. That is our primary window." Bill shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the diner door to ensure they weren't being watched. "What if someone notices we aren't actual entertainers?" "Just juggle some balloons and look frantic. No one questions a frantic clown." "I can't juggle," Bill admitted with a frown. "Then drop them. It adds to the comedy." Bill groaned, rubbing his temples with a look of deep regret. "I hate this plan." "You love the loot. Now, practice your honking." Molly handed him a red rubber nose with a menacing, toothy grin.