Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AA9Y17B8MJPNVMJV0XCVY

Molly stood in the shadow of a hedge like a confused housecat with ambitions, her hoodie pulled low and her expression set to “mischief, but legally ambiguous.” Bill leaned against the fence, tugging at a pair of cotton gloves as if they were personally insulting him. “This is a children’s party,” Molly whispered, squinting at the glowing backyard. “We are going to commit… festive felonies.” Bill’s grin wobbled. “It’s not felony if we’re emotionally supportive.” “Supportive of what, Bill?” “Of the present economy. Think about it. All that wrapped paper. All that ribbon. We could redistribute the joy to… adults who can appreciate sarcasm.” Molly glanced at his pockets. “Your bag is full of assorted key-like things.” “Shh,” Bill said, drawing himself up. “These are ceremonial. For… unlocking destiny.” “Destiny does not come in a keychain shape.” Bill lifted a finger, solemn as a priest. “In my defense, destiny once unlocked a vending machine. It gave me a granola bar. I consider that evidence.” Molly sighed and checked her watch like it might apologize for time itself. “Okay. We’ll do this clean. No property damage. No tackling mascots. No stealing the tiny cupcakes shaped like dinosaurs.” Bill’s eyes widened. “You’re worried we’ll steal the dinosaurs?” “Bill, if you see a cupcake with teeth, you will take it. That’s a known pattern.” “I resemble nothing,” he said quickly, then paused. “I mean, I also resemble… cupcakes with teeth in my heart.” Molly pressed her palms together. “We are stealing all the presents. Every single one.” Bill blinked. “All of them?” “All of them,” Molly repeated, like a judge reading a verdict. “Without the grandparents noticing. Without the kids noticing. Without the host’s dog noticing.” Bill looked up at the porch, where a golden retriever sat beneath a string of lights, wearing a bandana that read BEST DOG EVER. The dog’s head tilted slowly, as if considering the concept of crime. Bill lowered his voice. “The dog is going to sense evil.” “The dog senses vitamins,” Molly said. “We smell like stealth and resourcefulness.” Bill sniffed his own sleeve. “I smell like… peanut butter and anxiety.” “That’s close enough.” Bill straightened, ready to inspire. “We’ll need a plan.” Molly folded her arms. “We have a plan. Step one: we sneak in.” Bill nodded. “And step two: we sneak out.” “Excellent,” Molly said, impatient. “With the presents.” Bill leaned in, eyes gleaming. “How do we handle the screaming?” Molly stared. “The screaming is the point.” “The screaming is usually accompanied by—” Molly cut him off. “By parents yelling, kids giggling, and someone dropping a plastic whistle into the dog’s water bowl.” Bill’s mouth opened, then closed. “That… is oddly specific.” Molly lowered her voice. “Last time I was near a party like this, I watched a clown attempt to juggle without consent. It ended with soup on a wall. I’m not saying it was related to destiny, but—” Bill lifted a hand. “I was not there for the soup.” “I know,” Molly said. “Destiny likes to keep receipts.” Bill swallowed. “Okay. Then what’s step three?” Molly pointed at the side window, where a smear of frosting had somehow formed a perfect moustache on the glass. “We wait until everyone is distracted by—” “A game,” Bill guessed. “A game,” Molly confirmed. “Preferably one with a spinning prize wheel. People stare at spinning things. It’s science.” Bill squinted. “We could… spin too.” Molly gave him a look that could slice cake. “No spinning. You’re not a decoration.” Bill’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. We observe. We strike. We exit. We become… legends.” Molly smiled thinly. “We become legends with questionable morals.” Bill inhaled dramatically, then lowered his voice again. “What about security cameras?” Molly pointed to the corner where a camera sat behind a bird-shaped decoration. “It’s wearing a decorative wreath. That means it’s emotionally invested in holiday cheer. It will hesitate.” Bill nodded as if this was a scientific breakthrough. “Great. So it won’t see us.” “It will see you,” Molly said. “It will just see you as… a suspiciously quiet gust of criminal confetti.” Bill brightened. “Criminal confetti. I like that.” The house lights flickered, laughter swelling from inside like a balloon filling too fast. Molly glanced at Bill, then at the window, then at the dog, whose bandana now read BEST DOG EVER with the confidence of a tiny guardian angel. “Ready?” Molly asked. Bill adjusted his gloves. “Ready.” Molly reached for the fence clasp, her grin returning. “Remember: presents only.” Bill nodded vigorously. “Presents only. No dinosaur cupcakes.” Molly paused. “If a dinosaur cupcake escapes the rules…” Bill’s eyes widened with sincere concern. “Then we will offer it… a decoy.” Molly blinked. “You brought a decoy?” Bill patted his pocket like it contained salvation. “A very convincing… rubber eraser.” Molly stared at him. “Bill. That’s an eraser.” “It’s a highly flexible eraser,” Bill insisted. “It can become anything in a person’s memory.” Molly exhaled, half laugh, half threat. “Okay. Go time.” Bill whispered, reverent and thrilled, “For the present economy.”