Molly: "You know, this is the stupidest plan we've ever had." Bill: "Nah, just the most adorable." They both grinned at each other. Molly was leaning against the wall outside the local community center, a dim bulb dangling from the ceiling—casting eerie shadows over her olive green coat. Molly: "You realize we're about to rob a group of children? I feel like a Grinch in this outfit." Bill: "Well, Holiday season does have a matching villain for every heist. Think about it: we're the Hanukkah Heist Heroes, busting capers." He playfully saluted, his navy blue knit hat covering his forehead. Molly: "Alright, but we don't fuck up. The kids of Whisper Creek deserve some presents." Bill: "Relax, our disguises are perfect. We look innocent enough. No one will ever suspect us." Quickly changing the subject, he glanced at his wristwatch, the tiny hands ticking with a muted ticking. "Forty-five more minutes until Santa's grand entrance. By then, this joint will be packed with sugared up kids and their equally hyped-up parents." Molly: "But how are we going to bag all the gifts without being noticed? There'll be our usual crowd but this time, they'll be holding kids." Bill: "Simple. We'll work like an assembly line. I'll distract them with my new balloon animal skills. Fluffy bunny rabbits for all! Our little friends will be too busy to notice the presents walking off." Molly: "You're good at balloon animals now?" Bill: "Oh, after months of Netflixing some birthday party clowns on loop, how could I not? It's all fingers, wrist flicks, and elbow swivels. I'm a pro." Bill demonstrated this with a failed attempt at twisting a blue balloon into a seemingly deflated caterpillar. Molly: "Okay, procedure. We're skip-creeping our way through the crowd, keeping the throws lubricated—you're keeping them occupied, and I'll grab the goodies." Bill: "Right. Then, while I'm juggling animals, you should make a beeline for the gift table. Sweep 'em into your bag like you're vacuuming." He patted the label on the thermal knapsack strapped to her torso: "No one suspects a crazy elf-Mom scooping her child's discarded wrapping paper." Molly: "Slick." Voices filtered through the closed door, echoing the sound of excited squeals. The lead jingle of Jingle Bells tinkled through the speakers, and Bill started to hum along, his amused expression contagious. Bill: "Gee, I missed these soundtracks. It's carrying us away, isn't it, Molly?" Molly: "Just imagine our getaway." Bill: "Sweet, hot wheels, pure adrenaline." He had a toothy grin. Molly: "Santa hat darting through the Whisper Creek streets." Bill: "Like Rick and Lila in, 'Steals of a Lifetime'." Molly giggled at the reference. "Speaking of Rick and Lila, they'd be proud of us. Swiping for a better cause." Bill: "That's why we're thieves with hearts, Molly. Not just thieves." Whispering to each other, they planned until the lull was broken by the door opening. A rolly-polly woman in full Mrs. Claus attire burst through, her bells jingling as she grabbed them both. "You must be the help! Kids are waiting." Bill and Molly shared a nervous chuckle, their mole skin slimmed under their Santa and elf costumes. They slapped hands, and Bill let the merriment roll off his shoulders while Molly's eyes flashed with a determined glint. Bill: "On your mark. Three. Two. One. Merry Christmas, Molly!" He bounced into the room with a sudden spring in his step as Molly went subtle, blending into the scenery. A minute into the heist, and Molly made her first swipe. The knapsack chugged along with the weight of her dozen stolen loots, well on her way to scalping the room. Bill inflated creatures in a hypnotizing dance, only releasing them into the children's excited hands moments before they popped, demanding more. Santa's entrance knocked Molly off her stride. All eyes switched to the red-bearded man, glossy eyes sparkling with the promise of a lifetime. Bill bent over, pulling a gray elephant out of thin air just in time, the children shouting in awe as Molly zipped by, her movements smooth as ice. No sooner, her plan was working. She slipped behind parents, tugging presents and carrying them off as if they were her own. The next unlucky soul to spot Molly was a posh mother, eyeing her suspiciously. Molly: "Pardon me, Ma'am, do you think this present belongs to your little one?" A quick switch, a bouncing baby doll dumped into the knapsack. The mother’s nostrils flared, her brow wrinkled in concentration. Molly: "She probably got confused and mixed them up. I'll handle it!" She hastily waved her away, and Molly rejoined Bill, tapping her newly-sized knapsack. Bill finished his clowning routine, glancing at her. Molly: "Almost there." Whistles, they packed up, ready to skedaddle. Bill darted when the distraction of Santa grazing a child's head was at its peak, Molly following suit. A last whirl, and they darted away to their getaway car. While Bill dove into the driver's seat, Molly checked their goods. Dolls, action figures, Legos, and everything in between. Molly: "Another perfect score." She leaned into the car, exhaling a contented sigh. Bill: "No one ever got hurt, Molly. That's what we're doing." Molly beamed, "Let's make sure those presents end up under the right trees." And like the end of a classic caper, the duo sped away, the gifts packed tight, a warm type of victory settling between them. It was, after all, the season of giving.