Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9P75H2HVNDA0BNJT396YC

**Title: *The Great Toy Heist*** The neon glow of the party’s disco ball flickered against Molly’s grimy window, casting jagged shadows across the alley. She adjusted her ski mask, ensuring the brim hid her wild curls—*just in case*—before peering through the crack. Bill leaned against the dumpster, arms crossed, watching the chaos inside. "You sure this is the right place?" he muttered, kicking a loose brick. Molly rolled her eyes. "Of course. The *Toys R Us* on Maple Street. They’ve got the best stock. All those wrapped presents, all lined up like some kind of Christmas nightmare." Bill groaned. "And we’re supposed to sneak in there, pick out the goodies, and get out before the parents notice we’re missing?" "Exactly," Molly said, already untying her boot. "But we’ve got a plan. The back door’s got a weak spot—some kid left the latch off last week. And we’re timing it right. The party’s over in twenty minutes." Bill groaned again. "You’re a genius." Molly shot him a look. "I’m *practical*." A beat of silence. Then Bill sighed. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you." Molly grinned. "Deal. Now, let’s move. I’ll distract the security guard—he’s always napping near the snack table." Bill groaned. "You’re *terrible* at this." "Shut up," Molly said, already sprinting toward the alley entrance. "And don’t forget the rope. We’re not doing this the hard way." Bill caught up, holding out a coiled length of fishing line. "Here. I bought it last week. It’s *very* sturdy." Molly took it, testing the weight. "Good. Now, let’s go." Inside the party, the music was blaring, kids were screaming, and a security guard—some guy in a stained uniform—was sprawled over the snack table, snoring loudly. Molly sauntered over, tossing a handful of candy at his feet. "Hey, man," she called, leaning in. "You see this? *Free* candy. You’re welcome." The guard groaned, rubbing his eyes. "What’s this?" Molly grinned. "Oh, you know. The *generosity* of strangers." She winked. "You’re welcome." Bill, meanwhile, had already slipped through the back door, the rope trailing behind him. He was halfway up the wall when the guard finally sat up, blinking. "Uh… thanks?" he muttered, grabbing a handful of candy. Molly’s voice crackled from her phone. "We’re good. Just need to—" A loud *BANG* echoed from the hallway. The guard spun around, holding a baseball bat. Bill froze. "Oh no." Molly’s face paled. "That’s not good." The guard swung the bat, but Molly was already diving behind a stack of boxes. Bill scrambled up the wall, rope still in hand, just as the guard’s foot caught the rope—*CRACK*—and it snapped. Bill yelped, tumbling into the alley. The guard turned, confused, and Molly grabbed his wrist. "Hey! You!" she shouted, dragging him toward the back door. "We’re stealing presents!" The guard blinked. "Wait… what?" Molly grinned. "You’re welcome." Bill, now tangled in the rope, was still struggling. "We’re *not* doing this!" The guard sighed, tossing the bat aside. "Fine. But if I see you again, I’m calling the cops." Molly nodded. "Deal." As they slipped out the back, Bill groaned. "We’re *so* screwed." Molly laughed. "Nah. We’re *legendary*." And with that, they vanished into the night, already plotting their next heist—because nothing says "success" like a little chaos.