Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07S06T1VMAAENEWT4BXWJQ

“Bill, tell me again why we’re crouched behind a hedge in pirate hats,” Molly whispered. “Because stealth is not just a skill, Molly,” Bill whispered back, “it’s an attitude.” “It’s a ridiculous attitude.” “It’s a festive attitude.” “We are going to steal presents from a children’s party.” “Yes.” “Which makes us monsters.” “Temporary monsters. Seasonal monsters.” Molly peered through the hedge at the brightly lit garden. Paper lanterns bobbed above a long table crowded with cupcakes, streamers, and a volcano of wrapped presents. “There are at least thirty kids in there.” “Twenty-nine,” Bill said. “You counted?” “I counted the loud ones. The quiet ones are worse.” “Bill.” “What?” “You brought a grappling hook.” Bill patted his coat. “And you’re welcome.” “That’s for scaling walls.” “Or for hooking the top of that bouncy castle and dragging it away if necessary.” Molly stared. “You do know that bouncy castles weigh as much as a small government?” “That’s why I said if necessary.” From inside the house came a burst of singing, followed by applause and a shriek of delight. Molly winced. “Listen to them. They’re happy.” “Exactly,” Bill said. “They’ll never suspect us. Nobody expects sorrow at a pirate-themed pony party.” “It’s a princess party.” Bill looked down at his hat. “Then why are we wearing pirate hats?” “Because you insisted on a theme.” “I like commitment.” “We’re here for the presents, Bill. Focus.” “I am focused. I’m focusing on the big red one with the bow the size of a sail.” “You can’t just point at it like a greedy pigeon.” “I’m not greedy. I’m strategic.” Molly folded her arms. “Explain the strategy.” “We enter through the kitchen, posing as caterers.” “We are not wearing caterer clothes.” “We are wearing black. Black is very catering.” “Caterers carry trays.” “I can carry a tray.” “You can barely carry your own ego.” Bill put a hand to his chest. “That hurt me more than the time I sat on a harmonica.” Molly sighed. “How many presents?” “All of them.” “That’s not a number.” “It is if you believe in ambition.” “Bill, the entire room will notice if the gifts vanish.” “No, they won’t. There will be games. There will be jelly. There will be a magician who can’t make a rabbit appear because the rabbit is already judging him. While they’re distracted, we load everything into the van.” “The van with ‘BILL’S LUMBER’ painted on the side?” He shrugged. “A classic disguise.” “It says ‘Bill’s Lumber’ in glitter.” “Festive lumber is a niche market.” Molly rubbed her forehead. “And after we steal the presents?” “We vanish into the night.” “With what exactly? Christmas spirit?” “With the van. Molly, please keep up.” She glanced again at the party, where a child with a paper crown was now unwrapping something and screaming with joy. “We can’t do this.” Bill softened. “You’re having a conscience again.” “I’m having a heart.” “Very inconvenient.” She turned to him. “What if those are expensive presents? What if one of them is a telescope, or a bike, or one of those toys that makes noise for no reason and survives it for years?” Bill nodded solemnly. “That last one is a masterpiece.” “And what if the birthday kid cries?” “The birthday kid is already crying,” Bill said. “Happy crying.” “Still crying.” “Fair.” Molly looked at him. “You really want to do this?” Bill considered the garden, the lights, the laughter, the mountains of wrapping paper. Then he looked at the hedge, the dark street, and the pathetic little van. “Honestly?” “Yes.” “No. I want to be the kind of man who could do this.” Molly blinked. “That’s the worst answer you could have given.” “I’m full of them.” A woman’s voice called from inside, “Who’s at the side gate?” Bill froze. “Was that us?” Molly grabbed his sleeve. “Bill.” “On the bright side,” he hissed, “we’ve been noticed.” The gate latch rattled. Molly groaned. “Next time we rob something easier, like a bank.” Bill grinned in the dark. “Finally, we agree on something.”