Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA6G3KX86EM4FGPS7RBGND

Molly crouched behind a decorative shrub, clutching a glittery invitation as if it were a sacred map. Bill adjusted his bowtie, which hid a roll of duct tape and a small grappling hook. They peered through church basement windows where paper crowns and a mound of wrapped mischief blinked under fluorescent lights. This was no ordinary snag; it was a buffet of bows and sticky ribbons. Molly inspected a tiny name tag and imagined tiny footprints and sugar-powered chaos. She smirked, the plan forming like batter: distraction, swoop, vanish. "Ready? Tiptoe, grin, grab every glittery box, no crumbs." Bill licked his thumb, proofed his fake moustache, and whispered back with the seriousness of someone about to purloin birthday joy. He had rehearsed clumsy slips and strategic sneezes. Their rhythm was a tap dance of laws to be bent. The parking lot glowed with inflatable characters, a sentinel clown with a suspicious smile. Molly checked her watch and felt absurdly heroic. Bill nodded and produced a list titled Operation: Presents. "Cake distraction, balloon avalanche, Santa impersonation, laundry exit, fast." Molly tapped his elbow, then delivered a tiny, comically urgent order: "Do it." They melted into shadows, laughing like tiny, victorious thieves.