Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9XD6R78V57TF91NK7ZRAE

Molly and Bill crouched behind a sagging hedge, whispering as if nursery rhymes might tattle. They had rehearsed routes between cartoon shadows, practiced graceful larceny around tiny plastic dinosaurs, and debated glitter. Tonight's target smelled like frosting and parental optimism. Their toolkit was absurd: a child's umbrella, a flashlight that only flashed disco, and a grocery bag labeled DONATIONS. Molly smirked, tapping a paper map with a crayon dot for the cake table. "Tiptoe, snag gifts, avoid cake, pocket confetti, exit through pantry." "One teddy stays, swap list, duct-tape balloons, vanish under piñata." They reviewed timings; balloons popped into villains in their heads. Bill checked a watch that had never kept time, which suited them fine because chaos never consulted schedules. They planned a silent entrance through the pantry, a whisper corridor past sleeping clowns, a graceful scoop of wrapped carnivals. If a child stirred they'd leave one perfect stuffed animal on the pillow, a ransom of cuddles, and vanish leaving only giggles behind. Their heist would be surgical, ridiculous, and small-hearted: liberating presents from the tyranny of good behavior charts and sticky hands. As lights dimmed, they readied tools and practiced a whisper laugh, and checked the lock twice.