Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07KEDTAB3259FR0Q22AEM1

“Molly, the party’s at Juniper Street, right?” “Yep, and the guests are tiny, loud, and armed with juice boxes.” “Perfect. We steal presents, not joy.” “Sure, Bill. Tell that to your conscience—he hides behind your left pant leg.” “I don’t have a conscience.” “You have a conscience-shaped hole. Now listen: we enter through the side gate.” “The one with the wind chime that squeaks like a haunted parrot?” “Exactly. I brought fishing line.” “You brought fishing line to silence wind chimes?” “I’m resourceful. You’re resourceful, too, in the way a shopping cart is ‘portable’.” “Thanks. What’s the plan for the decorations?” “We wear the inflatable birthday suits.” “Which ones?” “The ones we borrowed from the bodega and returned with less helium and more suspicious dents.” “Won’t the kids notice two adults in a saggy llama suit?” “They’ll assume it’s the ‘surprise mascot.’ Kids believe anything if you wave dramatically.” “I can wave.” “You can over-wave. Now, how do we open the gift table?” “We don’t. We ‘mysteriously reorganize’ it.” “Sounds like theft with jazz hands.” “Jazz hands are nonviolent.” “And the security?” “Sugar-free cupcakes in the foyer. No guard exists beyond frosting.” “Alright. Timers?” “On my mark.” “Your mark is where?” “At the moment everyone sings. They’ll be distracted by carols and glitter.” “Glitter is basically a crime-proofing camouflage.” “Let’s do this, Bill.” “After you, Molly.” “I always go first—risk management.” “Call it what you want. Just promise you won’t lick the frosting.” “I don’t lick frosting.” “You licked frosting last time.” “That was espionage.” “Fine. Two seconds—count.” “Three… two… one… go!”