Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08GE8RHRTX96BZFH3V0QM9

“Bill,” Molly whispered, peering through the hedge at the brightly painted house, “tell me again why we’re infiltrating a balloon fortress full of six-year-olds?” Bill adjusted his gloves with solemnity. “Because, Molly, the evidence suggests that inside those flimsy wrapping papers lie the spoils of the season.” “You mean toys,” she said. “I mean assets.” A squeal burst from the open window, followed by the thump of tiny feet and a chorus of off-key singing. Molly flinched. “There are too many of them.” “Children are noisy, unpredictable, and small,” Bill said. “Three advantages. They won’t suspect a thing.” “One of them just licked the fence.” “Excellent surveillance technique.” Molly glared. “And what’s the plan when they ask why we’re carrying a sack the size of a body?” “We say we’re the entertainment,” Bill said, with the confidence of a man who had never entertained anyone. From inside, a voice boomed, “Party games! Everyone to the living room!” Bill straightened. “Timing is critical. We slip in with the crowd, collect the presents, and vanish before cake.” “Before cake,” Molly repeated. “That’s the line?” “That’s the line between glory and sticky disaster.” She sighed, then hefted the sack. “If this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.” Bill gave a bow. “Naturally. Now smile. We’re about to commit the most festive burglary in suburbia.”