Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFFV1TFSWSR3YGDHYG9Q008

The moon hung heavy over the cul-de-sac like a judgmental eye, casting a silver spotlight on the house painted like a gingerbread cookie. Behind the white vinyl fence, real icicles hung from the gutters like frozen tears of joy, waiting to drip onto the operatic scent of the driveway. Molly adjusted her thermal vest, though the absence of an actual coat made her shiver violently in the damp air. She checked the silencer on her toy hammer. Beside her, Bill adjusted his sparkly tights with practiced arrogance, staring at the inoculated window that stood at attention like a first grader's journal. The plan was perfect. The timing was great. The only problem was Bill was wearing stripes. They looked like a marching band. "Did you check the lock again?" Bill whispered, though the open window had screamed for his confession. Molly hummed aggressively through her nose. "The lock was paper thin, Bill. It squeaks like a bad cartoon. I swear it didn't take me five seconds to drop a loose brick in front of it." "Great," Bill said, peeking through the window. "They'll know we're here. Ninety percent of the classes in this street are probably watching them. We look like burglars to the kids." "Stop shouting," Molly hissed. She scanned the horizon. "Look at the parents. They are all inside. That maniac in the red car, the mom on the left, everyone's basking in the glow of the Christmas tree. We are invisible." "It's totally easy," Bill nodded. "We walk in when the scores stop. But wait. What is the plan exactly? Do we take everything? The cakes. The presents?" "We take the presents," Molly replied. "Not the cake. It's too sweet. Too sticky. Cakes are for a party. They break easily when they fall. Presents are sealed well." "I don't know," Bill said. "Everyone talks about the Christmas tree lights. The wrapping paper smells like pine needles. It is pleasant." "Stop talking," Molly hissed. "If the parents are upstairs, they have cameras. Or eyes. They have grown kids. They know what to do." "They have looks," Bill corrected. "We have looks." "No," Molly said. "We do not have looks. We have claws? No. We have muscles? No." "We have the shiny belt," Bill insisted. "We can hide it behind the door. It is very shiny." "We don't need the belt," Molly said. "We need the presents. The big ones. The toys. Not the belly buttons. Or the mud pies." "Okay," Bill said. "We get the presents. We go. Then we leave. No nap." "Good," Molly said. "Let's start. The tea is waiting. The loot is ready to go in."