Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPKJ3DQPWH05WPSES3Z17H

Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses and leaned against the wrought-iron fence, eyeing the brightly colored balloons bobbing in the breeze. "You realize this is the dumbest plan we’ve ever had, right?" Bill scratched his chin, squinting at the house. "Hey, kids’ parties are gold mines. Unwrapped toys, no security, and parents too busy pretending they like each other to notice a couple of ‘aunts’ sneaking in." Molly sighed. "We’re not even dressed like aunts. You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. You look like a guy who got lost on his way to a luau." Bill grinned. "Exactly. Who’s gonna suspect the guy who looks like he’s here to judge the piñata competition?" Molly groaned. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you. And I’m saying you’re my kidnapper." "Deal. Now, here’s the plan—" "Wait, you have a plan?" "Of course. Step one: walk in like we own the place. Step two: stuff presents into our bags. Step three: run like hell." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "That’s not a plan. That’s a suicide mission." Bill clapped her on the back. "Adventure, Molly. It’s what we live for." Molly muttered something under her breath as they pushed through the gate, the sound of children’s laughter growing louder. "I hate my life."