Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7JKZSR463FP0HPFRTGH7V

The neon glow of the party hall pulsed like a heartbeat, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Molly adjusted her scarf—too tight, too obvious—while Bill fiddled with his phone, scrolling through the security footage of the venue. The camera feed was grainy, but it showed the front door locked tight, the security guard’s uniform looking suspiciously like the one from last week’s *Mystery of the Missing Lollipop* case. “You think this place is *that* well-guarded?” Molly asked, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Because if it is, we’re gonna need a *very* convincing story about why we’re here.” Bill smirked, swiping through another angle. “Nah, just a few bored parents and a guy who probably thinks he’s the world’s worst DJ. We’ll just—” “*We’ll what?*” Molly cut in, her fingers twitching toward the doorknob. “Bluff our way in? Pretend to be lost? Or do you have a *plan*?” Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. “I was gonna say we’d just—” He paused, then grinned. “Okay, fine. We’ll say we’re *emergency* babysitters. That way, we can sneak in, grab the presents, and *very* subtly*—” “*Very* subtly* what?*” Molly hissed, already yanking the door open. The hallway beyond was lined with plastic chairs and a half-empty punch bowl, but the real prize was just ahead—a glittery, glittery disaster of a kids’ party. A dozen kids in matching outfits were huddled around a table piled high with wrapped gifts, their faces alight with excitement. And right in the center? A *very* suspicious-looking man in a Santa hat, holding a clipboard. Bill froze. “Oh. *Oh no.*” Molly’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not just a Santa. He’s a *security Santa.*” Bill groaned. “We’re screwed.” Molly’s grin was all teeth. “Nah. We’re just gonna *play along.*” She grabbed Bill’s arm and dragged him toward the nearest kid, who was already reaching for a present. “Hey, little buddy! You ever wonder how Santa knows *all* your secrets?” The kid blinked. “Uh… yeah?” “Well, he doesn’t,” Molly said, pulling out a tiny, stolen flashlight. “But *we* do. And we’re gonna need your help.” She held up the flashlight, shining it directly into the Santa’s face. The man’s eyes widened—then he *screamed.* Bill, meanwhile, had already grabbed a nearby cake stand and was using it as a shield. “We’re *not* doing this,” he muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos unfolding around them. The kids were now screaming, the Santa was running, and Molly was already back at the door, yanking it open wider. “Come on!” she shouted over the noise. “Let’s *go!*” Bill sighed, but he was already running—right into a very confused security guard who had just realized his alarm wasn’t going off.