Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQE4J9R2KA4SD9F19KVTH1

The neon glow of the *Dazzle & Delight Party Emporium* sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized clown wig in the rearview mirror. Bill sat beside her, methodically peeling the wrapper off a stolen lollipop he’d swiped from the last job—a baptism, if memory served. “You realize we’re about to rob a bunch of six-year-olds, right?” Bill said, sucking the lollipop thoughtfully. “Morally, that’s like kicking a puppy. But with more glitter.” Molly shot him a look. “First of all, we’re not *robbing* them. We’re *redistributing* unearned wealth. Second, have you *seen* the price of a decent Lego set these days? Those kids are sitting on a gold mine of plastic bricks and sugar-induced chaos.” Bill squinted at the party through the windshield. A horde of tiny humans in paper crowns screamed as a man in a dragon costume belched confetti from a cannon. “Fair point. But what’s the play? We can’t just waltz in there with a sack and a ‘thanks, kids.’” Molly pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket—an invitation she’d “borrowed” from a mailbox. “*‘Bring your favorite stuffed animal for the Pin the Tail on the Unicorn game!’*” she read. “We go in as Mr. Snuggles and Lady Whiskers, ‘accidentally’ knock over the present table, and *poof*—Santa’s little helpers just became Santa’s little *thieves*.” Bill stared. “You want us to dress as stuffed animals.” “Tactical stuffed animals.” “Molly, I have *standards*.” “You had standards before you ate a lollipop you found in a church donation basket.” Bill wiped his mouth. “That was a *dark* time.” A woman in a bedazzled “Party Mom” sash herded the children toward a bounce house. Molly adjusted her fake nose. “Clock’s ticking. You take the high road—distract the parents with your ‘charming’ small talk. I’ll hit the presents, stash ‘em in the diaper bag—” “We’re using a *diaper bag*?” “It’s got *pockets*, Bill.” He sighed. “Fine. But if I have to pretend to be a teddy bear, I’m drawing the line at hugs.” Molly grinned. “Too late. You *are* the hugs.” Bill groaned as she tossed him a pair of googly-eyed bear ears. “I hate my life.” “No, you don’t.” Molly fluffed her wig. “You love it. Almost as much as you love free cake.” Bill perked up. “There’s cake?” Molly opened the car door. “Let’s go earn it.”