Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4QPWKG00PGGNH7Y195KP2

The warehouse smelled of old pizza and regret. Molly sprawled across a rusted filing cabinet, a crumpled map of 42 Pumpkin Lane in her fist. “Alright, Bill. Operation Present Bandit is a go. We hit the party at eight, when the kids are glued to the bouncy castle and the adults are too busy pretending to enjoy pin the tail on the donkey.” Bill adjusted his oversized party hat, which was clearly too big for his head. “Molly, the donkey has a name tag that says *Mr. Fluffernutter*. What if they notice?” “They won’t. People love donkeys. Also, you’re wearing a *suit*.” She gestured to his full-length mirror reflection, which showed him in a neon rainbow jumpsuit labeled *TOYS ‘R’ US EMPLOYEE*. “It’s a costume! I’m blending in!” He struck a pose. “Look at me—I’m practically one of them.” “You look like a rejected Peppa Pig reject.” Molly rolled her eyes and traced the map. “The presents are in the garage, behind the ‘Gone Fishing’ lawn gnome display. We’ll need a distraction. I’m thinking… a fake fire alarm.” Bill gasped. “Molly, what if they think it’s real? What if someone actually gets hurt?” “Relax. I’ll rig it to just *ding* like a microwave. Not loud enough to panic the toddlers, but enough to herd the adults outside.” She tapped the map. “You’ll wait by the garage door with the rope ladder. Once I signal, you lower it. We’ll snatch the presents, toss them into the getaway van, and vanish before anyone notices.” “Van?” Bill’s voice cracked. “Mister Henderson’s van is a *Ford Econoline*. We’re stealing from a *Ford Econoline*? What if they honk the horn?” “They won’t. It’s a kids’ party. No one’s honking horns at eight PM.” Molly smirked. “Now, about the ‘distraction’—how do you want to do it? I was thinking I’d ‘accidentally’ knock over the punch bowl. Classic.” “Or,” Bill offered, “we could—” “No catapults,” Molly interrupted. “Last time you tried that with the mayor’s garden gnomes, you nearly launched a nun into next week.” “I’m just saying, if we’re stealthy, maybe we shouldn’t make any noise at all.” “Bill, we’re stealing Christmas. Stealth is overrated. We’ll be in and out like—” “Like what?” “Like… like a… a… *pirate*!” Molly grinned. “A pirate who’s really good at stealing toys.” Bill frowned. “Pirates don’t steal toys. They steal treasure.” “Exactly. We’ll pretend it’s treasure. Kids love that.” “Or…” He hesitated. “What if we dress up as elves? Santa’s elves? Then we could say we’re ‘checking inventory’ for the North Pole?” Molly paused. “…That’s actually not terrible.” “See? I’m useful!” Bill beamed, adjusting his hat. “You’re useful when you’re not trying to start a war with lawn gnomes.” She stood, stretching. “Alright, final plan: I’ll ‘trip’ near the punch bowl, causing the ‘dinging’ distraction. You’ll wait in the garage with the ladder. We grab the presents, toss ’em in the van, and drive like the police are hot on our heels. Got it?” “Got it,” Bill said, saluting with a plastic toy sword from his pocket. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.” “Wouldn’t dream of it, Bill. Now let’s go be legendary.” She grabbed his shoulder. “To the future!” “To the… present?” “No, *future*,” she corrected. “And Bill?” “Yeah?” “Don’t mention the catapults to anyone. Not even the gnomes.” “Aye-aye, Captain.” He stepped forward, tripped over a tire, and caught himself on a barrel. “…Or aye-aye, *Present Bandit*.” Molly groaned. “We’re doomed.”