Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7SHRAGH305B6065C58FSR

The community hall smelled overwhelmingly of sugar and disappointed dreams. Molly wrinkled her nose, surveying the scene. Balloons in primary colours bobbed against the ceiling, streamers drooped like defeated party poppers, and a suspiciously large bouncy castle dominated one corner. It was, in essence, a five-year-old’s fever dream made real. “So,” Bill said, tugging at his ill-fitting tweed jacket, “Operation Glitter Bomb is a go?” Molly adjusted her oversized sunglasses, even though the hall was dimly lit. “Glitter Bomb. Really, Bill? That's the best you could come up with? It sounds like a rejected middle school dance theme.” “Hey! It’s memorable! And it rhymes!” He puffed out his chest, then immediately deflated. "Look, the point is, we’re in. We’re going to waltz in, blend in, and liberate all those gifts." “Liberate? You mean steal. Let’s be honest. 'Liberate' sounds like we're rescuing teddy bears from a tyrannical toy manufacturer.” Molly’s gaze scanned the room, calculating. A mountain of wrapped presents, stacked precariously near the stage, practically vibrated with potential. “Okay, the plan. I’m going for distraction. I’ll pose as… a children’s entertainer. Think slightly unhinged puppeteer meets slightly confused magician.” Bill blinked. “You? A children’s entertainer? You once scared a poodle just by looking at it.” “Details, details! I've watched YouTube. I learned a magic trick. *Ta-da!* I can make a coin disappear.” She snapped her fingers with questionable enthusiasm. “While I'm captivating the tiny humans – hopefully with something more engaging than a vanishing coin – you sneak over to the present pile and… redistribute them into our possession.” "Redistribute," Bill repeated, mimicking her earlier tone. "Right. And how do I redistribute a mountain of presents without, you know, looking like I'm redistributing a mountain of presents?” “You’re wearing a delivery driver’s uniform, Bill. A ridiculously oversized one. You’ll look like you’re delivering them to… a very happy, very excessively gift-receiving child. Trust me, they won't question it. Five-year-olds are easily distracted by anything remotely shiny or remotely resembling chocolate.” “And what if they ask why I’m delivering all these presents to… nobody?” “Improvise! Say you’re testing the hall’s carrying capacity. Or that you’re part of a very unusual logistical experiment.” Molly tapped her chin. “Or tell them you’re a gift fairy. They love gift fairies.” Bill groaned. "A gift fairy? I’ll die of embarrassment.” "You'll be significantly richer than you would be if we didn’t do this," Molly countered, a glint in her eye. “Besides, I've got a sparkly hat for the occasion. It's really quite fetching." She produced a truly hideous, sequined hat from her bag and held it up. Bill stared at it, speechless. "Put it on! See? Instant fairy credibility!" He reluctantly accepted the hat, wincing. "Alright, alright. But if I'm stopped by a particularly astute five-year-old, I’m blaming you." "Just remember the key, Bill: confidence. We are not thieves. We are… logistical benefactors.” Molly grinned. "Now, let's go liberate some presents."