Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK96E0DAF1H3CHBT3QRTZH7

Molly crouched behind a hydrangea bush like it owed her money. Bill leaned beside her, breathing hard through a clown mask he’d bought “for blending in.” “Take that thing off,” Molly whispered. “It’s staring at me.” “It’s for camouflage,” Bill whispered back. “Kids love clowns.” “Kids love balloons too and I’m not wearing one on my head.” Bill tugged the mask up, revealing a face already sweating. “Okay, okay. So. Operation Birthday Blizzard. We slip in, snag the presents, slip out. Clean.” “Clean?” Molly pointed at the backyard. “There’s a chocolate fountain. There’s glitter. This is a crime scene waiting to happen.” Bill peered over the fence. “I count… twelve children, three adults, one inflatable dinosaur, and—oh—someone’s dad grilling like he’s auditioning for a cooking show.” “Focus,” Molly said. “Presents are stacked by the sliding door. Like a little tower of hope.” Bill nodded. “We hit the tower. Quick hands.” “Quick hands?” Molly hissed. “Last time you said ‘quick hands’ you set off a museum alarm by high-fiving a statue.” “That statue high-fived back,” Bill said. “Very suspicious.” Molly adjusted her black knit cap. “We’re not here to debate sculpture. We’re here for boxes. Wrapped boxes. With bows.” Bill licked his thumb and rubbed it on his eyebrow. “You ever think about how gifts are basically currency but festive?” “I think about how you’re going to ruin this,” Molly said. “What’s your disguise?” Bill brightened. “I’m a magician.” “You’re not a magician.” “I have a cape.” “A cape is just a blanket with ambition.” Bill pulled the cape from his backpack. “Also I have a wand.” Molly squinted. “That’s a flashlight.” “Dual-use wand,” Bill said. “Illusion and illumination.” Molly sighed. “Fine. I’m the party clown. You’re the party… mistake.” “Hey,” Bill whispered. “At least I’m committed. You’re wearing all black like you’re sneaking into a jewel vault, not a bounce house.” “I dressed for respect,” Molly said. “I respect the hustle.” Bill glanced toward the gate. “We need an entry line. Something normal.” Molly said, “We’re late. We’re from—somewhere. We have a gift.” “We do?” Bill asked. Molly produced a small wrapped box from her pocket. “A decoy gift. It’s empty.” Bill’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant.” “It’s also the only part of this that doesn’t involve you talking to a child,” Molly said. Bill swallowed. “I’m great with kids.” “You once tried to high-five a toddler and she bit you.” “She had strong boundaries,” Bill said. “I respect that.” A shriek of laughter erupted from the yard. Molly flinched. “Okay. Timing. When they start the piñata, everyone looks at the piñata. We slide along the wall. You grab as many presents as you can carry. I grab the big ones. We exit through the side gate.” Bill nodded. “What about the dog?” Molly froze. “There’s a dog?” Bill pointed. “Tiny one. Wearing a bow tie. Looks like it’s in management.” Molly stared at the dog as it stared back, unblinking. “That dog knows we’re criminals.” “We could distract it,” Bill said. “With treats.” Molly said, “We don’t have treats.” Bill patted his pockets. “I have a granola bar.” “That’s not a treat. That’s punishment,” Molly said. Bill unwrapped it anyway. “Dogs love oats.” “They love meat,” Molly said. “Give it to me. I’ll handle management.” Bill hesitated. “You’re going to bribe a bow-tie dog with a granola bar.” “I’m going to negotiate,” Molly said. “Now. Ready?” Bill took a deep breath. “Ready.” Molly stood, smoothed her cap, and whispered, “Remember: no improvising.” Bill grinned. “Improvising is my middle name.” “It is not,” Molly said. Bill said, “It could be. My parents were unpredictable.” Molly grabbed his sleeve. “Gate. Now.” They slipped through the latch. Bill whispered, “Smile like we belong.” Molly muttered, “If I smile any harder, my face will call the cops.” Bill lifted his flashlight-wand. “Greetings, tiny humans! I am—” Molly pinched his arm. “No.” Bill hissed, “Ow!” Molly smiled painfully and murmured, “We’re late. We brought a gift. Where’s the pile?” Bill whispered, “Right there. Tower of hope. I see a robot, a unicorn, and—oh, that’s definitely a drum set.” Molly’s eyes gleamed. “That one first.” Bill gulped. “We’re stealing joy.” “We’re redistributing,” Molly said. “Now move.”