Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5W4185E0AMCP3EE4E4V4S

“Bill,” Molly whispered, crouching behind a bush shaped like a clown, “tell me again why we’re stealing from a children’s party.” Bill adjusted the strap of his oversized Santa sack and peered through the clown’s plastic nose. “Because, Molly, it’s genius. No alarms, no guards, just a bunch of toddlers hyped up on sugar. Easy pickings.” Molly frowned, brushing a twig off her faux elf costume. “Yeah, but it’s kids’ stuff, Bill. What are we gonna do with a pile of action figures and coloring books?” “Resell them, Molly. Think about it—parents are desperate for anything labeled ‘educational.’ We’ll make a fortune.” Bill grinned mischievously, his fake beard slipping slightly. “Besides, it’s Christmas. Everyone loves a good heist story.” Molly rolled her eyes. “You’re ridiculous. But fine—what’s the plan?” Bill pulled out a crumpled napkin with a scribbled floor plan of the house. “Alright, so the party’s in the backyard. Gifts are stacked near the piñata. We wait for the kiddos to get distracted by the cake, grab the loot, and make a break for it.” “Through the backyard gate?” Molly asked, squinting at the napkin. “Exactly. I’ve already loosened the hinges. It’ll be a cinch.” Molly sighed, adjusting her pointy elf hat. “And what if someone sees us?” Bill smirked. “We’re in costume, Molly. Who’s gonna suspect Santa and his elf? We’re practically invisible.” Just then, the sound of children squealing with delight echoed from the backyard. The cake had arrived. Molly nudged Bill. “Showtime. Let’s grab that sack and move.” They emerged from behind the clown bush, trying to look casual. Molly carried a tray of cookies she’d snatched from the kitchen earlier, while Bill hoisted the Santa sack over his shoulder. “Ho ho ho!” Bill bellowed, his voice unnaturally deep. “Who’s ready for presents?” The children turned, eyes wide, but before anyone could respond, Molly dropped the tray of cookies. The kids dove for them like seagulls on fries. “Now!” Bill whispered urgently. They sprinted toward the gift pile, tossing toys into the sack with reckless abandon. A Barbie doll, a remote-controlled car, a box of Legos—Bill shoved them all in. “Bill, hurry!” Molly hissed, glancing over her shoulder. The parents were starting to notice. Almost done. Bill reached for the last gift—a shiny red tricycle—when a tiny voice piped up behind him. “Santa?” Bill froze. A little girl in a sparkly tutu stood there, holding a half-eaten cupcake. “Uh, yes, sweetie?” Bill stammered, trying to sound jolly. The girl pointed to the sack. “Are those our presents?” Molly stepped in, forcing a smile. “Oh no, honey. These are… extra special presents. For… um, needy children.” The girl tilted her head. “But you’re stealing them!” “No, no!” Bill said, laughing nervously. “We’re just… borrowing them!” Molly grabbed his arm. “Run, Bill!” They bolted for the gate, the sack dragging behind them. Bill tripped over the tricycle’s wheel but scrambled back up. The gate creaked open just as they heard the parents shouting. Out on the street, Molly glared at Bill. “Extra special presents?! Borrowing them?! That’s the best you could come up with?” Bill shrugged, panting. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Molly groaned. “Next time, we’re stealing from a bank.” “Deal,” Bill said, adjusting his beard. “Now let’s see what we got.”