Run: 2026-02-26-01KJCRZ40W3Z4AFZ3GGRAVKRJ7

The living room buzzed with the muffled giggles of kids at the birthday bash next door. Molly leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes darting between the glittery decorations and the clock ticking toward midnight. Bill crouched beside her, clutching a duffel bag stuffed with lockpicks and a stolen party hat. “Alright,” Molly said, tapping her chin, “we hit at 11:30. The parents leave early, right? That’s our window.” Bill nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Easy in, easy out. The back gate’s unguarded till then. But we need a distraction.” He pulled a crumpled note from his pocket. “This is the new trick—my cousin’s kid’s party. She’s got a pet iguana named Steve. We’ll ‘rescue’ Steve, and everyone’ll rush outside.” Molly snorted. “A iguana? You’re stealing presents for a lizard?” “Steve’s a *star*, Molly. Plus, kids love animals. They’ll be too busy cooing over him to notice the real loot.” She rolled her eyes but smirked. “Fine. But how do we get past the ‘Toy Terror’ banner?” Bill grinned. “Simple. I’ve got a magnet for the metallic parts of the display. And you’ll distract the mom with your ‘cute’ act.” “My ‘cute’ act?” “You know—the one where you pretend to cry over a broken toy. It’s classic.” Molly fake-gasped. “You think I’d cry over a plastic dinosaur?” “You’d sob like a lost puppy if it meant getting to the presents.” She sighed, then straightened. “Okay, but what if they check the gift table first?” Bill held up the duffel. “We swap the gifts. Take the ones under the table, leave the rest. No one’ll notice unless they’re looking.” “And if someone sees us?” “They’ll think it’s part of the party. Kids love chaos. Besides, we’re ghosts.” Molly laughed. “Ghosts with lockpicks.” “Exactly.” He paused. “Wait, what about the cake?” “Don’t even think about eating it. We’re thieves, not vandals.” “Not yet,” Bill said, pulling out a tiny flashlight. “But if we need to, we’ll make excuses. ‘Oh, this candle’s lit!’ ‘Look, a mouse!’” Molly mock-scowled. “You’re ridiculous.” “Ridiculously effective.” He tossed her a balloon animal shaped like a shark. “Here. For morale.” She caught it, then frowned. “Why a shark?” “Because sharks don’t judge. They just… bite.” They both cracked up, the sound echoing through the hallway. Molly pocketed the shark, then straightened. “Alright, plan’s set. Meet me at the gate in ten. And Bill?” “Yeah?” “Don’t let Steve escape.” He saluted. “No promises, Captain.” Outside, the night air bit as they crept toward the backyard. Molly glanced at the party lights, then whispered, “What if the iguana steals *our* presents?” Bill smirked. “Then we’ll steal Steve’s. He’s got better taste anyway.” They vanished into the shadows, the duffel bag bouncing between them, ready to turn a children’s party into their personal treasure hunt.