Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9ZX8AY6WGR78B7CRDNFKX

Molly wedged a stray balloon string behind her ear, the latex crunching like a stale cracker. Bill squelched in the mud, a wet sock squelching with each step, and glanced at the twinkling "HAPPY 5TH" banner strung above the bounce house. "You sure this isn’t a bad idea?" he said, the words muffled by a stolen rain poncho that kept slipping over his eyes. "Kids. With their sticky hands. And parents. With their *judgy* eyes. What if little Timmy’s dad—" "Is a dermatologist who specializes in calloused knuckles," Molly interrupted, popping a stolen cupcake into her mouth. Frosting smudged her cheek, and she licked it off with a grin. "We’re not here for the *kids*. We’re here for the *presents*. Let’s see…" She squinted through the scuffed party window. "Left of the goldfish bowl: a giant teddy bear with a missing eye. Perfect. Middle shelf: a remote-controlled triceratops that *actually works*. Bill’s been bitching about his lawnmower’s lack of chaos for months. And right—*yes*—the science kit. Slime, make-your-own volcanoes, glow-in-the-dark stars. Total score." Bill leaned closer, his poncho dripping onto the grass. "But how? The door’s unlocked, sure, but there’s a mom with a clipboard by the table. And the unicorn mascot’s bouncing like it’s got a bee in its frilly pants. How do we even *breathe* in here without引起怀疑?" Molly pressed a finger to her temple. "Distraction. I’ve scouted the perimeter. The tree behind the house? Perfect. I’ll climb it, yowl like a scared cat, and make the mascot give chase. Adults? They’ll drop everything to rescue a furry stranger over a pile of wrapping paper. You grab the triceratops, I’ll grab the slime kit and the teddy bear. Bill—" She paused, squinting at his mismatched socks. "Hey, those look like they’ve seen better days. Maybe swap ’em with a pair from a lost-and-found bin. Act like you’re *trying* to blend in. ‘Oh, my kid’s sock—wait, no, mine. Definitely mine.’" Bill gaped. "Blend in? I’m six-two. I *breathe* in a party hat. What if I trip?" "Then you trip. You’re not a *professional*. You’re a *part-time* professional with a coffee addiction and a pet parrot that macrobes*hate*," Molly said, repeating a phrase she’d heard at a bad heist movie. "Relax. Here—" She tossed him a small cloth bag. "This is for the slime. Keep it tight. And if the mascot catches you? *Scream*. Like you just saw a real dinosaur. Trust me, I once conned a parking cop into believing I’d fallen in a sewer with a ferret. The story’s better than the truth." Bill zipped the bag shut. "And the teddy bear? What if it cries?" Molly scoffed. "Teddy bears don’t cry. *You* cry when you’re caught, and then I’m stuck grabbing your foot while you’re dragged away. Now—" She pointed to the tree. "Climb. I’ll be two seconds behind. And if you see any cake? Eat it. But *quietly*. The mom with the clipboard hates noise." Bill took a deep breath, adjusted his poncho, and inched toward the tree. "Remind me why we’re doing this again?" "Because next week, we’re robbing a library of all the *graphic novels*," Molly said, already edging toward the house. "Saving the world, one present at a time. Now go! The triceratops won’t steal itself!" Bill started climbing, his sock squelching once more. Molly snuck through the back door, the teddy bear clutched under her arm, and grinned at the mountain of wrapping paper. Kids shrieked. A sprinkler went off. She tapped the triceratops’s control button. It roared. Perfect. Somewhere, the unicorn mascot yowled. Molly winked. Let the chaos begin.