Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM62KK72A70WMJWX9P5BRNP

"Molly, are you really suggesting we steal presents from a bunch of six-year-olds?" Bill whispered, crouched behind a hedge outside the brightly decorated house. "Not just any six-year-olds," Molly said, adjusting her black ski mask. "These are *rich* six-year-olds. Their gifts are probably gold-plated or something." "Gold-plated? They’re kids, Mol. They’re probably getting stuffed unicorns and coloring books." "Exactly! Minimal resale value, sure, but think of the *volume*. We fill the van, hit a few more parties, and boom—Christmas is payday." Bill frowned. "What if one of them wakes up? Kids are unpredictable. What do we do, wrestle a toddler?" "Easy," Molly said, pulling a candy bar from her pocket. "Distract ’em with sugar. Works every time." "And what if they scream?" "We scream louder. Pretend we’re clowns or something. Who’s gonna question clowns at a kid’s party?" Bill groaned. "This is the worst idea you’ve ever had." "Worst idea *so far*," Molly corrected, grinning. "Now, grab the sack and follow my lead. And don’t step on any Legos."