Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09XA0HZCMY7NWPZCH1MXEK

Molly crouched by the hedge, whispering as Bill adjusted a ridiculous clown wig. “Okay,” Molly hissed, “we’re not here for revenge, just the loot.” Bill pointed at the glowing house. “Kids think presents means free hugs, so let’s steal them.” Molly giggled. “No touching the host’s dog; it judges.” Bill twirled a grappling-hook balloon. “Relax—I brought stealth: indoors voice, plus pajamas.” Molly peered through the window. “I can see the tree. It’s practically begging to be unwrapped.” Bill nodded, solemn as a fortune-teller. “After we grab everything, we’ll leave a note: Santa hired professionals.” Molly snorted. “Too mean. Make it Santa misread the address.” Bill raised a finger. “And if anyone asks, we’re surprise caterers.” Molly nodded, then frowned. “Caterers don’t wear wigs.” Bill shrugged. “It’s festive; it screams mischief, not crime.” They listened to distant laughter, which sounded suspiciously like clapping. Molly checked the mailbox like it owed her money. “Ready?” Bill grinned. “Born ready, but I forgot flashlight batteries.” Bill rehearsed his grin while Molly counted the stairs to the living room, under breath. Molly sighed, watching the doorbell glow. “Use window stars; they’re LEDs.” Bill winked. “Then we’ll be brightest bandits tonight.” The plan felt illegal, yet oddly festive, like crime with sprinkles.