Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNG0NHCT49JEP1WGDNQZZXN

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Molly said, adjusting her mask. "Stealing presents from a bunch of five-year-olds? That's low, even for us." Bill shrugged. "Hey, you know how much those birthday gifts cost these days. We're just redistributing the wealth, is all." "Redistributing to our own pockets, you mean," Molly grumbled. "And how are we supposed to get past all those parents? They'll be watching the kids like hawks." "Leave that to me," Bill said with a grin. "I've got a plan. You distract them with your...talents, and I'll slip in through the back while they're not looking." "My talents?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "What talents would those be?" "You know," Bill waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Your feminine wiles. A little batting of the eyelashes, a coy smile, and those dads won't know what hit 'em." Molly rolled her eyes. "I swear, Bill, sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you. Fine, I'll do my part. But if this goes south, I'm blaming you." "Deal," Bill said, rubbing his hands together. "Now let's get in there and make these kids cry. For their own good, of course." "Of course," Molly muttered as they approached the house, the sounds of children's laughter and shrieks emanating from within. "I hope you know what you're doing." "Trust me," Bill said, straightening his tie. "I was born for this. Now go on, work your magic. I'll meet you back here in ten minutes with the goods." Molly took a deep breath and plastered on a smile as she rang the doorbell. A harried-looking mother answered, juggling a tray of cupcakes and a squirming toddler. "Hi there!" Molly said brightly. "I'm here for the party. I'm...uh...the entertainment!" The mother blinked. "Entertainment? I don't remember booking any entertainment." "Oh, it must have been a surprise from little Timmy's dad!" Molly said, slipping past her into the house. "He wanted to make this birthday extra special. I'm a professional balloon artist!" As Molly made her way to the backyard, Bill slipped around to the side of the house, picking the lock on the back door with practiced ease. He crept inside, heading straight for the pile of brightly wrapped presents in the living room. Just as he was about to start stuffing gifts into his sack, he heard a shrill scream from outside. Molly's voice rang out, high and panicked. "Bill! Abort! Abort! We've been made!" Cursing under his breath, Bill abandoned his loot and raced for the back door, only to find it blocked by an angry mob of parents wielding baseball bats and garden hoses. "Party's over, scumbags!" one of them yelled, brandishing a croquet mallet. "Now you're gonna learn what happens to present thieves in this town!" As Bill and Molly were dragged away, kicking and screaming, they shared a look of mutual understanding. Note to self, Bill thought ruefully. Never mess with a bunch of overprotective parents and their precious birthday swag. It just ain't worth it.