Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9WPCT1VBXCPKBNS2GZMHH

Molly pressed her face against the kitchen window, listening to the party spill into the street as if the laughter itself were proof of their plan. Bill hovered by the hedge, adjusting a silly hat that was obviously not his and pretending it helped with stealth. “Molly,” he whispered, “tonight we dine on mischief, yes?” She grinned. “Dine on mischief, dessert included. Also candy canes with covert intent.” They slid along the fence, the glow of balloons turning the yard into a carnival for villains. A dog barked once, twice, as if to remind them that signals could be heard, even in a children’s party. “First rule of the festive operation,” Bill said in a stage whisper, “don’t alarm the cake.” Molly rolled her eyes. “The cake is a tiny fortress, obviously. It sleeps with sprinkles for guards.” “Then we infiltrate with grace,” he replied. “And a bow tie.” “I don’t own a bow tie,” she said, “but I do own a confidence that could charm the frosting off a cupcake.” Bill nodded as if this settled everything. “Okay—entry via the service gate, drift past the punch bowl like a lullaby, then—” “Then what?” Molly asked. “Do we reward ourselves with a party favor for bravery, or a unicorn hat for the road?” “Both,” he said. “And possibly a cartwheel in the yard for atmosphere.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Atmosphere is important, Bill. It distracts people from the nonessential problem you call logistics.” “They call it strategy,” he corrected. “Distraction and extraction. We create a spectacle, then quietly collect what we came for.” “Which is… the presents?” Molly asked, as if testing him. “Presents,” Bill confirmed, though a gleam of mischief lit his eyes. “And the glittery chaos that surrounds them.” She snorted softly. “I like that plan. Glitter chaos.” They pressed closer to the fence, listening to the muffled pop music and the squeals of delighted kids. A preposterous parade of party decorations swayed in the breeze, and Molly imagined their plan as if it were a cartoon storyboard. “Rule two,” Molly murmured, “be polite while you steal. People remember politeness.” “And always apologize to the cake,” Bill added with a wink. “If the cake speaks, you apologize for interrupting its nap.” Molly laughed, a sound light enough to be mistaken for a misdelivered joke. “Okay, we approach the back door, we introduce ourselves as—” “Entertainers,” he said, finishing, “whose talents include balloon sculpture and impeccable alibis.” “The alibis better be airtight,” she warned, “or this becomes a confetti-tuesday graveyard.” Bill straightened, then tipped an imaginary hat. “We’ll pretend to be performers forming a surprise act—two magicians who forgot their tricks, perhaps.” “Two magicians who forgot their tricks,” she repeated, savoring the absurdity. “For the audience of a birthday party, it’s all about timing and pie”—she paused, deciding not to push the joke too far—“and keeping a straight face when someone shouts ‘Surprise!’ while you’re mid–cackle.” They moved as one, the yard lights bathing them in orange and gold. A few party-goers wandered near the fence, trading jokes and high-fives, unaware of two cartoonish thieves plotting a heist in the shadows. “Display complete,” Molly whispered. “Let the show begin.” Bill flicked his imaginary wand. “Abracadabra, presents, appear!” She grinned. “And vanish, while the cake remains blissfully unaware.” They edged along the wall, the world around them a carnival of cheerful chaos. The back door loomed ahead, a gleaming invitation to a stage where the only rule was laughter. “Remember,” Molly said softly, “we’re not villains, we’re performers who got carried away by a glittery dream.” “Deal,” he replied, voice low and earnest. “We perform, we admire, we exit without leaving a trace except for a fond memory and perhaps a stray balloon.” The door waited, the party’s hum a warm tide, and in that glow Molly felt the ridiculous promise of a caper that could only happen at a children’s party. A ridiculous, harmless mischief. A joke they would tell on a slow night, when life needed a bright, silly reminder. They shared a look, both knowing the lines between heroic and ridiculous were thin as ribbon, and they stepped forward together, ready to improvise the next act of their perfectly silly plan.