Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAJRSYHR22VJK4C1H1D59S

The neon glow of a flickering "Happy Birthday!" sign cast long shadows across the backyard as Molly adjusted the strap of her satchel, her breath fogging in the crisp evening air. "Alright, Bill," she whispered, nudging him with her elbow, "we’re about to turn this sugar rush into our own personal candy land." Bill wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, his eyes darting toward the house where laughter and the distant clink of plastic cups echoed. "Molly, I don’t know about this. What if the kid’s mom is a black belt in karate? Or worse—what if she’s got a *dog*?" Molly smirked, pulling out a pair of tiny, glittery sunglasses from her bag. "Relax, Bill. The only thing sharper than that mom’s eyes is my lockpick set. And as for the dog? We’re not stealing from the dog. We’re stealing *for* the dog. Imagine that mutt’s life—no more stolen bones, just a lifetime supply of squeaky toys." Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "You’re evil. And also, what if the kid’s name is *Timmy*? I can’t rob a Timmy." Molly gasped, clutching her chest. "Bill, if we don’t do this, we’ll be eating cold pizza for the rest of our lives. And trust me, you’d rather have a lifetime supply of *Lego sets* than regret." She tossed him a tiny top hat. "Besides, think of the *prestige*. We’re not just thieves—we’re the *Santa Clauses of crime*." Bill sighed, adjusting the hat lopsidedly. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you and that *glitter*." He grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to the fence. "And Molly? If we see a single *unwrapped present*, I’m leaving you behind."