Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5A58X0V8N86C12KVQ9BZD

Molly spread a crumpled flyer across a crate. “It’s a unicorn-themed birthday party. Ten a.m. to two p.m. Host’s a clown named Bubbles. No security cameras—at least none that aren’t part of the decoration.” Bill kicked at a tire. “Clowns are inherently untrustworthy. You think Bubbles notices a guy in a rainbow wig? He’s probably just here for the cotton candy.” “He’s got a balloon animal stand. If he sees us, he’ll assume we’re part of the entertainment.” Molly adjusted her ski mask. “Which is better than being assumed as a burglar.” “Burglar?” Bill snorted. “We’re artists, Molly. We’re here to ‘liberate’ party favors.” “Liberate the presents, more like. The host said they’re ‘all wrapped and labeled for the children.’ That means they’re in the living room, behind the couch. Where there’s a window we can climb through if the door’s locked.” “Or we could just walk in. No one’s gonna question two guys in clown costumes during a clown convention.” “They’re not *in* clown costumes yet. We’ll need to—” “Plan B: I’ll distract the parents with a ‘lost puppy’ act. You grab the presents and we make a run for it.” Molly rolled her eyes. “You once scared a toddler into crying for an hour with that ‘puppy’ routine. What if they bring a real dog?” “Then we blame the dog.” “They’ll blame us. We need a better distraction. Something involving a cake.” Bill perked up. “A fake cake! I’ve got one in my van. It’s just a cardboard box painted like frosting. We’ll set it offstage, pretend it’s a surprise, and while everyone’s oohing and aahing, we’ll swipe the real presents.” “And if the parents realize it’s fake?” “Then we blame the clown.” Molly sighed. “You’re impossible.” “Thank you. That’s what my mom used to say.” They paused as a car door slammed nearby. Molly froze. “We’re being followed,” she hissed. Bill grinned. “Great. Let’s go. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and it’s not the kind that comes with free cookies.” “You’re not even dressed for the part.” “I’ll improvise.” He pulled a rainbow lei from his pocket. “I feel… festive.” Molly grabbed her black gloves. “We’re not getting caught. If things go sideways, we split up. You take the presents, I’ll create a diversion with the cake.” “And if the cake explodes?” “Then we’re both screwed.” They slipped into the warehouse’s shadow. Outside, the party buzzed with laughter and squeals. A balloon bobbed past, spelling out *HAPPY BIRTHDAY*. “Ready?” Molly whispered. Bill nodded, adjusting his lei. “Let’s go steal some childhood magic.” They approached the house, where Bubbles the Clown was mid-somersault. Molly tugged Bill’s sleeve. “The plan. Cake explosion, presents, exit. No heroics.” “No promises,” Bill said, already eyeing the garden hose. The front door creaked open. They stepped inside, where a mountain of wrapped gifts loomed beneath a glitter-covered tree. “Perfect,” Molly muttered. Bill grinned. “Or not.” A parent called, “Hey, where’s the magician?” They froze. “Uh…” Molly began. “*I*’m the magician,” Bill said, producing a dove from his sleeve. It immediately pooped on his head. The parent blinked. “…Amazing.” Molly facepalmed as Bill bowed dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… *The Great Bill-o-theatre!*” “Now’s our chance,” she hissed, darting toward the living room. Bill followed, tripping over a hose. It sprayed him in the face. “Let’s go, you absolute disaster,” Molly said, dragging him toward the couch. Behind them, Bubbles laughed. “That’s the spirit!” They shoved the presents into a duffel bag just as a child tugged Bill’s sleeve. “Mister, where’s the puppy?” Bill blinked. “The *puppy*?” “Yes! You said you’d bring it!” Molly grabbed his arm. “We’ll explain later. Let’s go!” They bolted, the duffel bag slung over Molly’s shoulder, Bill trailing a rainbow lei. “Next time,” Molly panted, “we rob a bank.” “Better yet,” Bill said, “a bakery. Less crying, more frosting.” They vanished into the afternoon, leaving behind a very confused clown and a child with a hose.