Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09EYT8SYRT1DASMYEPE131

Molly checked the cuff of her black gloves and whispered, “Okay, Bill, if we get caught, I’m blaming your haircut.” Bill crouched behind a shrub, peering at the glowing windows. “My haircut is a professional choice, thank you. Besides, children are easy targets.” Molly snorted. “Easy targets? They’re basically tiny security contractors. They squeal, they report, they judge.” Bill tapped his earpiece. “We don’t steal from kids, we steal from joy. Big difference.” Molly slid a small magnet along the porch rail. “Tell that to the police when they ask why you’re swiping Paw Patrol.” Bill leaned in. “Listen, the presents are all stacked by the tree. We take the shiny ones, leave the noisy ones. Mercy.” Molly grinned. “Mercy? You’re a monster with morals.” Bill nodded solemnly. “I have a code. Step one: no stepping on Lego.” Molly’s eyes widened. “You stepped on Lego last time.” Bill sighed. “It was one Lego. Technically, it attacked me.” Molly opened the gate with a soft click. “Fine. Step two: quiet entry, dramatic exits.” Bill raised a finger. “Dramatic exits are non-negotiable.” Molly hissed, “The party starts in three minutes.” Bill whispered, “Then we move like ninjas.” Molly glanced at his sneakers. “Ninjas don’t squeak.” Bill shrugged. “Neither do I, unless the air is full of whines and allergies.” Molly rolled her eyes. “Focus. We’re taking presents, not starting a memoir.” Bill took a breath. “Together, we become legend.” Molly smiled. “Or a cautionary tale for parents.”