Run: 2026-05-10-01KR92ECWW25CGJ65WQ1B9GHNQ

Molly adjusted her neon clown nose, squinting at the blueprints of the suburban fortress known as The Backyard. Bill paced nearby, his oversized felt shoes squeaking against the pristine floorboards of their hideout. Are you sure about the clown angle, Bill? It is the perfect cover, Molly. Nobody suspects a clown of grand larceny. But children are terrifying observation machines. They will smell our desperation. Nonsense. Focus on the cargo. We need that pile of wrapped boxes before the cake ceremony ends. What if they have a professional entertainer? A rival professional? I checked the invite list. It is just a sad man in a vest holding a balloon poodle. We can handle him. I really dislike face paint, Bill. It makes my pores weep. Suffer for your craft. Remember the plan. You distract the parents with your mediocre juggling while I liberate the loot through the hedge. What about the golden retriever? I have pockets full of premium bacon strips. That dog will be sedated by gluttony. Fine. Let us ruin these toddlers' birthdays then. Exactly. Greed is a dish best served with sprinkle-covered cupcakes. We move at dusk. Do not trip over your massive pants.