Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYASGK7V18BBVET0KKAZXK2

The neon glow of a flickering "Happy Birthday, Timmy!" balloon cast long shadows across the living room floor as Molly adjusted the strap of her satchel, her fingers twitching with the kind of restless energy that only comes from plotting a crime against joy. Bill leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his reflection in the window looking suspiciously like a disgruntled raccoon who’d just been denied a trash can. "Alright, listen," Molly said, tapping her chin with a pen that was *definitely* not a pen—it was a lockpick disguised as one. "We’re not just stealing presents. We’re stealing *the spirit* of childhood. Every wrapped box is a tiny, unsuspecting heart, and we’re going to yank it right out." Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "Molly, if we get caught, I’m telling the judge about the time you tried to sell your own teeth to a dentist for ‘emergency cash.’" "That was a misunderstanding!" she snapped. "He said ‘fillings’ and I said ‘filling’—it was a language barrier!" Bill sighed, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly popped out. "Fine. But we’re doing this *my* way. No loud noises, no fancy disguises—just a simple, elegant heist. We walk in, grab the presents, and walk out before the parents even realize their kid’s birthday is a lie." Molly grinned, pulling a tiny top hat from her pocket. "Oh, *now* you’re talking. Because I *love* a good disguise. I’m going in as the birthday clown. You’re the ice cream truck driver. Classic. Irresistible." Bill stared at her like she’d just suggested they rob a bakery by pretending to be a loaf of bread. "You want me to drive around in a truck that *sells ice cream* while you juggle balloons and tell bad jokes? Molly, I’m not a *performance artist*." "Relax," she said, tossing him a whistle. "You just honk when I say ‘go.’ Easy. Now, what’s the security like?" Bill checked his notes. "One security guard. Ex-bouncer. Name’s Gary. He’s got a mustache that looks like it was drawn on with a crayon and a temper that could curdle milk." Molly whistled. "Perfect. I’ll distract him with a ‘magic trick’—turns out, my ‘disappearing act’ involves making his wallet vanish. You take the presents, we split, and by the time Gary realizes his wallet is gone, we’ll be long gone with the toys." Bill hesitated. "What if he *doesn’t* have a wallet?" Molly waved a hand. "Then we improvise. Steal his *soul* instead." Bill groaned again, but this time, there was a hint of a smile. "You’re *insane*." "And you love me," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "Now, let’s go ruin a kid’s birthday before he even gets to open one present." Bill sighed, but he was already pulling out his own satchel. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for this." Molly grinned, adjusting her clown nose. "Deal. Now let’s go make some memories—*the bad kind*."