Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4X1WHDHM92FTBN743VZAQ

Molly crouched behind a dumpster, her breath fogging in the cold air. Bill fidgeted with a stolen clown nose. "Are we *sure* about this?" he asked, eyeing the pastel banners fluttering above the party tent. "Sure?" Molly arched a brow. "Bill, we’re stealing Christmas. From toddlers." He adjusted the nose. "What if they notice us? What if—" "Parents?" She smirked. "They’ll blame the squirrels. Now, here’s the plan: I’ll distract the clown, you grab the presents from the gift table. No heroics, no souvenirs. Just presents." "But the cupcakes—" "NO CUPCAKES!" Bill gulped. "Right. The cupcakes are off-limits." Molly tossed him a black garbage bag. "Move like shadows. And for God’s sake, stop humming ‘Let It Go.’" He nodded, clutching the bag like a lifeline. "I’m a natural at this." "Natural disaster, more like." She handed him a fake mustache. "Disguise. We’re ‘Uncle Gus and the Clown.’" "Uncle *what*?" "Cut to the chase, Bill. The presents. Or I’ll feed you to the petting zoo goat." He saluted, mustache askew. "Yes, ma’am." Molly grinned. "Ma’am? I’m your partner, not your mom." "Right. Partner. Let’s go steal some magic."