Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKATTXZQ8QBN839DSSAE5FT

Night swelled low above the backyard, sugar lights bobbing over a carousel table. Molly and Bill crouched beneath the rhododendron, exchanging sleepy grins. They had rehearsed this caper through bad coffee and triumphant napkin sketches. The party hummed oblivious; children chased foam animals, parents discussed dental plans, and a banner sagged slightly like a tired flag. Their plan was ridiculous and precise, equal parts bravado and absurdity. Molly smelled frosting and possibility. Bill clicked a pocket compass, though compasses were not useful under fairy lights. He loved the ritual, the whispered exchange that made them conspirators, not criminals. Shadows pooled where the presents lay like small kingdoms. Wrapping paper glittered, tape caught at corners, names curled into neat loops. They imagined each toy as a tiny victory, stuffed animals and plastic swords that would look absurd on their grimy shelf. They checked gloves, rehearsed exits, and rehearsed apologies for imaginary parents. A faint laugh floated from the window, and a dog barked once, then gave up. Molly tugged Bill toward the landscaping stones, counting steps in her head. Bill fished a small flashlight, the cone of light steady as a promise. They moved like careful shadows, rehearsed to the point of delicate ridiculousness. Tonight they would steal not for need alone, but for the giddy story of getting away, and because empty shelves felt like a dare. The moon was a skeptical witness, and somewhere a paper hat twitched. They smiled and stepped toward the gate, hearts practicing nonsense courage. "Molly: The cake table is near the window. We enter through the side gate. Tiny guards everywhere, sugar powered and impossible to sneak past quietly." "Bill: I bring balloons as camouflage. I float like a sad, helium swan. They never expect petty aerial theft from above the piñata tonight obviously." "Molly: We must coordinate timing with the magician. Distraction, wand flourish, smoke bomb. Children scream. Parents clap. We slip in under applause like polite thieves." "Bill: The magician is an old man who miscounts volunteers. Practice a trick where two hats vanish. One hat hides our backpack full of loot." "Molly: Parents take photos at the cake. Blinding flashes will be our cover. We'll pocket presents labeled 'To: Timmy' with sweet, professional speed and efficient." "Bill: What about the cake? Sticky frosting ruins fingerprints, but also glues gloves. Bring spare latex and tiny lint roller for crumbs on the velvet." "Molly: After gifts we exit through the puppet room where only grandparents sit. They complain loudly but never chase. Their knitting deters sprinting and mild." "Bill: Your costume? Clown? Careful, you're allergic to balloons. I can play sad clown number two, limp and apologetic while you pocket everything merrily today." "Molly: Timing, balloon distractions, hat pocket, glitter as misdirection. Also a convincing squeaky toy cry to lead the toddlers away from the gift pile swiftly." "Bill: If we get caught we plead temporary possession for tax purposes, return with sugary receipts, and leave an IOU dinosaur. It's comedic, convincing honest."