Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9PQ3C1M8H6TES76ZNYTDQ

“Right, so, Operation Birthday Bonanza. Sounds… festive.” Bill adjusted his fake mustache, which was already crooked. Molly didn’t look up from the floor plan – a crayon drawing scrawled on a napkin. “Don’t mock the name, Bill. It builds morale.” “Morale for stealing presents from seven-year-olds? I think my morale is questionable at best.” “They’re *excessive* presents, Bill. Little Timmy already has three remote control cars and a pony. He doesn’t *need* a miniature replica of the Eiffel Tower.” “He might *want* it,” Bill muttered. “Look, I still say we hit Old Man Hemlock’s stamp collection. Low risk, high reward.” “Low excitement. And frankly, Hemlock's guard poodle is a deterrent. This is cleaner. In and out. A whirlwind of gift acquisition.” “A whirlwind of tiny humans screaming ‘thief!’ maybe.” Bill gestured dramatically. “Think about it, Molly. Glitter. Confetti. Sticky fingers. It’s a minefield!” “We’re professionals, Bill. We’ll wear gloves. And sparkly disguises. Blend in. Think… enthusiastic aunt and uncle.” “Enthusiastic? I can do grumpy uncle. I excel at grumpy.” “No grumpy! We need to look like we genuinely care about little Timmy’s special day. We’re here to… admire the balloon animals.” “Admire the balloon animals whilst simultaneously emptying the gift table?” “Precisely! We’ll work as a team. You distract with… magic tricks.” Bill choked. “Magic tricks? I can barely make a coin disappear without dropping it!” “Learn a new trick! It's a children’s party, Bill, not Fort Knox. A simple rabbit-out-of-a-hat will suffice.” “I don’t *have* a rabbit. I have allergies.” “Borrow one. I’ll handle the extraction. Big bag. Fast exit. The van’s parked around the corner, engine running.” “What if Timmy’s mom asks us what our relationship to Timmy is?” “We’re… family friends. Distant relatives of his goldfish. Something believable.” “Goldfish relatives? Really?” “It's less suspicious than saying we’re professional present pilferers, is it not?” Molly finally looked up, fixing Bill with a steely gaze. “Look, it’s a clean score. Tons of valuable stuff. Think of the profits! We can finally afford that beach house in Belize.” “Belize… okay, Belize does sound nice. But what if a kid sees us?” “We tell them we’re Santa’s helpers… doing an early gift assessment.” Bill stared at her. “Santa’s helpers?” “Desperate times, Bill. Desperate times.”