Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07DJH17GT8RNJ2D3YHTKFD

Molly checked the toy-store bag, then the party flyer taped to her sleeve: PEP RALLY, FREE BALLOONS, PLEASE REMOVE SHOES. Bill crouched by the hedge, wearing a clown wig like it was camouflage. “Quiet, Bill. We just lift the presents and vanish before cupcakes,” Molly hissed. Bill listened to distant squeals and measured the driveway with his laser watch. “Easy. Their security is toddlers with sticky fingers definitely,” he whispered. They slipped through the side gate where a pinwheel spinner squeaked like an alarm clock that couldn’t read. Inside, streamers floated over a folding table stacked with wrapped boxes and giant foam letters spelling JOY. Molly practiced her stealth face—half angel, half refund clerk—and reached for the nearest bow. She muttered that stealing required inventory, because she loved lists more than money. Bill opened a carton of toy trains, pretending to admire it while his fingers searched for barcodes. From the living room, a mascot hamster squealed, and every child applauded. The noise might drown their footsteps, but it also meant attention. Molly nodded toward the hallway closet, calling it plan B, and Bill grinned, ready to reroute gift gravity like a magician with a flourish and silent apology tonight.