Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5EEA3385VPWR05W7JP0J6

Molly spread a crumpled map on the dashboard. "Okay, Bill, here's the plan. We dress as party staff—clown for me, waiter for you. Easy in, easy out." Bill adjusted his crooked party hat. "What if the clown costume looks more like a rejected birthday hat?" "The kid’s got a face like a disappointed koala. He won’t notice." Molly smirked. "Your job is to distract the parents with ‘technical difficulties’ while I grab the gift table." "Distract them? Ma’am, last week I spilled punch on a octogenarian and she called the cops." "Exactly. Chaos is your friend." She jabbed the map. "House is on Maple Street. Two-story, white picket fence, suspiciously clean lawn. No cameras, but the dog—" "Mr. Wiggles? He’s a menace. A fluffy little T-Rex with a grudge." "Then we bribe him with a sausage. You’re on sausage duty." Bill groaned. "I’m not a dog whisperer." "Neither am I, but we’ll fake it." Molly folded the map. "We hit the gift table at 8:15. You create a ‘beer shortage’ near the punch bowl. Ten minutes, max." "Ten minutes? That’s plenty of time for me to panic and set something on fire." "You’ll be fine. Just remember: no eye contact, no eye contact—" "Got it. Clown eyes only." "And if anyone asks, we’re here for the ‘free balloon’ promotion." Bill saluted with a limp hand. "Roger that. Lead the way, Terror of the Toy Box." Molly revved the car. "Don’t even think about backing up, Bill."