Run: 2026-05-10-01KR8Z7CQT21KJ6QP4Q30GGDWC

Molly adjusted her neon tutu and checked the perimeter of the backyard. Bill crouched behind a bouncy castle shaped like a deranged dragon. They were disguised as professional birthday clowns, though the makeup smelled like grease paint and desperation. Are you sure the haul is worth the potential arrest, Bill asked. Molly scoffed, clutching a velvet sack. Think of the potential eBay profits, you coward. The target was a mountain of glittery boxes sitting on a plastic picnic table. A toddler wobbled toward them, clutching a half-eaten cupcake. Bill hissed. Keep your eyes on the loot, not the target. I hate children, he muttered, adjusting his oversized polka-dot trousers. They have sticky, unpredictable hands. Precisely why we strike now, she whispered. When that clown starts the balloon animal segment, we vanish with the presents. Do you have the getaway tricycle hidden behind the shed, he whispered back. Obviously, Molly replied, adjusting her oversized red wig. It has a basket large enough for a deluxe Lego set and at least ten stuffed unicorns. Focus, Bill said. The clown is pulling out a pump. Showtime, Molly replied. Let us ruin their childhood memories for the sake of our retirement fund.