Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAW2VN387Y41NZZ6R50S42

The neon glow of a flickering *Party Time* sign cast jagged shadows across the sidewalk as Molly adjusted the brim of her oversized sunglasses, squinting at the three-story mansion ahead. "Alright, Bill," she said, nudging her partner with the toe of her scuffed boot, "we’re about to pull off the heist of the century—or at least the heist of the *very confused* century." Bill, already halfway through a suspiciously large cupcake, wiped frosting from his mustache with the back of his hand. "Relax, Molly. It’s just a bunch of kids and their parents. No security dogs, no laser grids, just a whole lot of glitter and bad decisions." He took another bite, then paused. "Also, I *did* check the blueprints. There’s a basement door that looks like it was installed by someone who thought ‘secure’ meant ‘nailed to the wall with a hammer and a prayer.’" Molly grinned, pulling a tiny remote control from her pocket. "Good. Because I’ve been practicing my lockpick set on this little thing." She flicked the remote, and a nearby streetlamp flickered ominously. "Also, I may or may not have bribed the mailman to ‘accidentally’ leave the side gate unlocked." Bill choked on his cupcake. "You *what*?" "Relax, I just told him I’d trade him a lifetime supply of gummy worms for a favor. He’s already texting me back with the code to the garage." She held up her phone, where a blurry message read: *"U R THE BEST. CODE IS 1234567890. (DON’T TELL MY WIFE.)"* Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. "We’re breaking into a *children’s party* like a couple of overgrown toddlers. What if we get caught? What if we have to explain to a room full of wide-eyed kids why we’re stealing their presents?" Molly waved a hand dismissively. "First of all, we’re not stealing *their* presents—we’re stealing *their parents’* presents. Second, if we get caught, we’ll just tell them we’re the ‘party clowns’ and we ‘accidentally’ ate all the cupcakes." She held up a bag. "I brought extras. For damage control." Bill eyed the bag suspiciously. "Those are *my* cupcakes." "Details." Molly adjusted the strap of her backpack, which was suspiciously bulging. "Alright, here’s the plan: we slip in through the garage, grab all the presents under the tree, and be out before the parents even realize their kids are missing. No alarms, no fuss, just pure, unadulterated *thievery*." Bill took a deep breath, then nodded. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for the gummy worms." Molly grinned. "Deal. Now let’s go make some kids very, very happy—*indirectly*." She turned toward the gate, then paused. "Oh, and Bill?" "Yeah?" "Lock the door behind us. I don’t want any *uninvited* guests crashing our little party." Bill sighed, but followed her inside, already imagining the look on the parents’ faces when they opened their gifts—only to find them neatly wrapped in plastic and tucked into a van with a very confused mailman watching from the curb.