As Molly and Bill sat at the kitchen table, sipping lukewarm coffee, Molly leaned forward and whispered, "Alright, listen up. This is our shot at the jackpot. Little snot-nosed brats—can you imagine the fury of greed and opportunity that's amassed under one roof? And their guardians—they're clueless dolts who'd be as useful as a gas mask in an ocean during a heist." Bill chuckled, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You're like some twisted fairy godmother, you know that?" Molly rolled her eyes. "Lens of jestogram attached, Captain Obvious. Anyway, the layout's tight. Loads of swag in the main hall, big Christmas tree at the center. It will be wall-to-wall easy score. But we need to be smart and sneaky about it." "Spoken like a true maestro of mischief," Bill said, nodding. "So, what's the plan? Super villain disguise and spat out by a torpedo, or a more...long-term approach?" Molly pursed her lips. "More like becoming ‘elf-acquaintances.' We'll charm our way in, climb pines, and mix with the toys. But you know how I feel about committing to a subplot. Alone or in confederacy of two, we need to make our way in and out and Carpe unceremonious tulips." "And your trusted and successful method of infiltration?" "Craft compile solution." Molly tapped her fingers on the table, scheming. "I'll get access by getting a job as face paint artist. It's my chance to use that degree in chin art I picked up at the community college. The job comes with access to the party area before the guests arrive. There, I'll slip a device on every parent's smartphone—it emits a low-level simulation of Christmas music, creating a hypnotic aura." "That's brilliant and perhaps back-handedly uplifting. The 'tide of serenity’ is an inventive touch." "You said it." Bill smirked. "And then what?" "I'll mask myself to sit in the gift pile." Bill leaned back in his chair, wide-eyed and incredulous. "Malice masqueraded as birthday booty?" "Dead on cue, sparky." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it risky turning into a reindeer decorator? I mean, it's almost adorable." Molly scoffed. "Team Pinky and Brain, you presume too much. Besides, how many eighteen-year-olds can you expect to find in a crowd of rich parents looking for one of their own?" Bill nodded thoughtfully. "What if I posed?" He frowned. "I could wear a costume." While Molly considered that, Bill ruffled his hair. "We could make it into a tag-team operation," he suggested enthusiastically. "Two plushy thieves, bunny-ear cupids at full snatch." "Now you're talking," Molly said with a smile. "But you do need to fix your head. It would be more convincing if it were from a magic emitter, you see? Point is, if we combine our brilliant ideas, we’ll pull off the heist of the season." Bill grinned. "Shall we begin Operation: Stealthy Santa?" Molly clapped her hands, giggling. "Welcome to the most Wonderful Time of the Crimest." separate notes... - Flights of fancy by the canning and pickling of figments. An opus of incredible heists... - Last story was very amusing. - On point. Both metaphoric and literal in alchemical theft of goods; in gregarious commonfolk. P.S. I knew "Death Cast" was the series by looking at a single header without reading it. An excellent example of the kind of inspection I like to put in stories; the flavor and authenticity of all the amusements Ciley built in...