Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPBCERHTX22A6XC81XC3P3

Molly adjusted the oversized sunglasses perched on her nose and squinted at the brightly colored banner fluttering in the breeze. "You sure this is the right place, Bill? It looks like a rainbow exploded on a cupcake." Bill, balancing a stack of stolen party supplies in his arms, grinned. "Positive. The kid’s parents are loaded. Presents will be top-tier. Maybe even a drone. Or a pony. You never know with these rich folks." Molly snorted. "A pony? You think they’re just gonna leave a pony under the tree?" "Stranger things have happened," Bill said, nudging her with his elbow. "Besides, we’re not here for the pony. We’re here for the *principle* of the thing. Redistribution of wealth. Robin Hood, baby." Molly rolled her eyes. "Robin Hood didn’t steal from kids. That’s just low." "Technically, we’re stealing from the parents. The kids are just collateral damage." "Collateral damage? Bill, we’re stealing their birthday presents. That’s like stealing their childhood." Bill waved a hand dismissively. "They’ll get over it. Kids are resilient. Besides, we’re doing them a favor. Half these gifts are gonna be useless. Who needs a talking doll that tracks your sleep patterns?" Molly sighed. "You’re impossible. Fine. How do we even get in? The place is swarming with parents and—oh no. Is that a clown?" Bill followed her gaze to a man in a polka-dot suit juggling balloons near the entrance. "Yep. And he’s got a *trampoline*." Molly groaned. "This is a nightmare. We’re never gonna pull this off." "Sure we are. We just need a distraction. Something to draw the crowd away from the present table." Molly thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "I’ve got it. You remember that time we stole the mayor’s yacht?" Bill nodded. "Vividly. Best day of my life." "Right. So, we set off the fire alarm. Chaos ensued. Everyone ran outside. We had the whole place to ourselves." Bill’s eyes lit up. "You’re a genius. But how do we set off the alarm without getting caught?" Molly smirked. "Leave that to me. You just get ready to grab the loot." Bill saluted. "Aye, aye, captain." Molly strode toward the house, her mind racing. She spotted a fire extinguisher near the kitchen and grinned. "This is gonna be easy." Bill watched as she disappeared inside, then turned back to the party. The clown was now doing backflips on the trampoline, much to the delight of the children. Perfect. A few minutes later, the fire alarm blared, and the house erupted into chaos. Parents herded kids outside, shouting instructions. Bill slipped inside, dodging a panicked waiter carrying a tray of cupcakes. He reached the present table and let out a low whistle. "Jackpot." Molly appeared beside him, breathless. "Hurry up! We’ve got maybe two minutes before someone realizes it’s a false alarm." Bill grabbed an armful of gifts and stuffed them into a duffel bag. "You’re right. This is low. But hey, at least we’re not stealing from orphans." Molly groaned. "That’s not making me feel better." "Too late. We’re committed now." He zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Let’s bounce." As they slipped out the back door, the sound of children’s laughter followed them. Molly sighed. "We’re terrible people." Bill grinned. "Yeah, but we’re *fun* terrible people." Molly couldn’t help but laugh as they vanished into the night, their pockets full of stolen joy.