Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFJYFW53FSVAZVNTAA9QGW

Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses, peering through the party binoculars. "Look at that, Bill. Pure gold. Rainbow balloons, a giant cake shaped like a dinosaur, and a mountain of presents under that tree. Kids are like walking, talking security systems. Easy pickings." Bill adjusted his fedora, his eyes scanning the perimeter. "Molly, we’re not exactly stealth experts. Kids scream. Parents glare. And that cake? It’s a liability. Sticky, messy. We need a plan." Molly grinned, a flash of teeth. "Plan? We’re thieves, Bill. We improvise. See that ladder leaning against the fence? Perfect. We climb, we grab, we run. Simple." Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. "Simple? What about the parents? They’re all clustered near the cake, gossiping. And the kids? They’re not just sitting ducks. Little Timmy over there just pointed at us and shouted, 'Look, Mommy! Thieves!'" Molly waved a dismissive hand. "Timmy’s got a lisp. He’ll forget by snack time. Focus on the prize. Those presents? They’re just sitting there, wrapped in shiny paper. No alarms, no lasers. Just... presents." Bill pointed towards the back door. "The back door’s locked. We’d have to break a window. That’s noisy. And what about the dog? Mrs. Henderson’s poodle, Brutus. Heard he bites. Hard." Molly’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Brutus? Pfft. We’ll distract him. Bill, you’re the quiet one. You go around the side, toss him a squeaky toy. I’ll be the distraction. I’ll start singing that annoying birthday song really loud. Kids love that. They’ll crowd around me, blocking the view. Perfect." Bill hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But if Brutus bites you, I’m not cleaning up the mess. And Molly? No singing. It’s... unsettling." Molly winked. "Don’t worry, Bill. I’ll just hum. Softly. Like a friendly ghost." She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched towards the cake table, humming a tuneless melody. Bill slipped around the side of the house, a squeaky toy clutched in his hand. Inside, the party buzzed. Molly reached the cake, her humming growing slightly louder. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Timmy! Happy birthday to you!" She waved enthusiastically at the gathered parents, her eyes scanning for Brutus. Bill crept up behind the poodle, squeaking the toy. Brutus’s ears perked up, then he trotted over, tail wagging, completely ignoring Bill’s presence. Bill sighed in relief, hiding the toy. Molly continued her off-key serenade, drawing a small crowd of curious children. Bill slipped past the distracted parents, his eyes fixed on the tree. He reached the presents, his fingers trembling slightly. He grabbed the largest, shiniest box. "Got it!" he whispered, his voice tight with excitement and fear. Suddenly, a sharp, high-pitched scream pierced the air. "MY PRESENT! YOU TOOK MY PRESENT!" Little Sarah, tears streaming down her face, pointed a tiny finger at Bill. Molly froze mid-hymn, her eyes wide. The parents turned, their expressions shifting from amusement to furious glare. Brutus, sensing the chaos, let out a loud, menacing bark. Bill froze, the stolen present clutched in his hands. Molly’s humming died. The perfect heist, crumbling faster than a stale cupcake. They were caught. The presents were safe, for now. The comedy of errors had begun.