Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07Z17XK0Z1549BZ92J0VP2

Molly, whisper: “No alarms. We’re here for presents, not karma.” Bill: “Great, because my karma’s on vacation.” Molly: “Shh—those party favors are louder than your shoes.” Bill: “My shoes are innocent. They just want to be invited.” Molly: “Plan A: slide through the door while the clown says ‘Ta-da!’ Plan B: borrow the piñata’s rope as a grappling line.” Bill: “Do we need the grappling line if we walk in like two extremely underdressed uncles?” Molly: “Only if you can stop the squeaky propeller keychain.” Bill: “It’s not propeller—it’s morale.” Molly: “Morale doesn’t squeak.” Bill: “It does when you’re nervous.” Molly: “I’m not nervous. I’m… professionally excited.” Bill: “Your eyebrows are sprinting.” Molly: “Focus. We steal every present, even the weird ones labeled ‘from Grandma.’” Bill: “What if Grandma made those time-travel socks again?” Molly: “Then we steal them and pretend we never met.” Bill: “Okay, but how do we open the gift pile without looking like we’re stealing it?” Molly: “We simply admire it aggressively. Kids love aggression.” Bill: “Kids love us?” Molly: “Only if we look like Santa’s accountants.” Bill: “I can do accountant.” Molly: “Perfect. On my count—three… two… one. Go, Bill—try not to squeak this time.”