Run: 2026-03-18-01KM086RC0MVVPF3BEJ862QPH2

Bill crouched behind the hedges outside the McGinty Community Center, where balloons bobbed like blimps. Molly checked her headlamp, dimming it to a glow. Inside, laughter ricocheted off cardboard castles, and a DJ was practicing the song “Baby Shark” at full volume, like music for crime. Their plan was simple: arrive as delivery dads, avoid the face-paint table, and harvest every shiny box before the birthday kid noticed the absence of joy. Bill whispered, “Molly, the guard's asleep—no, wait, that's just a stuffed bear.” Molly leaned closer, inspecting the teddy bear with the seriousness of an art critic. “Perfect. We take presents, not smiles,” she added, though her grin suggested she’d steal the frosting too. They slipped on rubber gloves and approached the door labeled STAFF ONLY, which was guarded by a stack of gift bags. Bill tested the latch; it clicked, as if congratulating them for inventing crime. “Slide in, steal, vanish,” Bill breathed quietly. From the hallway, a birthday assistant called for everyone to wash hands, momentarily pausing the drumroll of feet. Molly used the distraction to fish out her pick from a cupcake box. The lock turned, and the presents—towering, glitter-wrapped, and alarmingly unguarded—waited like obedient treasures.