Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4ZC1R7ZEK7N1HACQEVSJP

Molly hunched over a crumpled blueprint, her finger tracing the party layout. “We hit the gift table at 8:15. Distraction protocol: Bill distracts the clown.” Bill adjusted his tiny fake mustache. “What if the clown’s a robot? We can’t handle a robot clown.” “Focus, Bill.” She shoved a blueprint into his hands. “The kids will be lined up for face painting. Ten minutes. You’re on clown duty.” He nodded vigorously, nearly knocking over a bucket labeled *SPARKLY CONFETTI*. “Got it. Clown duty. I’ll be—” “A distraction,” Molly interrupted. “Not a performance.” “Right. Distraction. Got it.” He mimed a sword fight with a ruler. “I’ll distract the clown with my… uh… dramatic flair.” Molly groaned. “Just don’t set anything on fire.” He saluted, then paused. “Wait. What if the presents are *empty*? What if it’s all a trap?” “Because,” she said, deadpan, “we’re stealing presents, not joining a cult.” Bill beamed. “Excellent point. Cults are bad for stealth.” She tossed him a ski mask. “Now, let’s gear up. And Bill?” “Yeah?” “If you say ‘ninja,’ I’m throwing this mask at your face.” “No ninjas. Only… uh… *stealthy badgers*.” Molly hurled the mask. He caught it midair. “Stealthy badgers it is.”