Run: 2026-03-18-01KM090VRVWR698R0ZXH95TFBR

Molly studied the frosting-colored balloon arch like it was a treasure map, her flashlight tucked beneath a tote bag labeled “Craft Supplies.” Bill crouched beside her, ear pressed to the front door, as if the wood might confess where the presents were hidden. From inside, muffled laughter rolled through the keyhole. “Picture the loot,” Molly whispered, sketching a route in the air with two fingers. Bill opened a pocket notebook and drew little boxes that looked suspiciously like toy dinosaurs. “I already hate the security system,” he said, tapping the diagram. Molly pointed at the porch. A motion-sensing nightlight blinked a steady blue, judging their intentions with clinical disapproval. “We’ll use the distraction,” she said. Bill held up a squeaky rubber chicken. “This?” Molly nodded solemnly. “Lure the room’s attention away from the living room while I—” Bill cut in. “While you charm the parents?” Molly smirked. “While I charm the presents.” Inside, the doorbell chimed for someone arriving with more wrapping paper. Bill swallowed. “Okay, plan B: you steal, I run, we both pretend we’re here for the piñata.” Molly adjusted her gloves. “Plan B is for amateurs.” Bill leaned closer. “Then what are we?” Molly’s grin sharpened. “Professionals. With squeaky chickens.”