Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4X3A1F0Y43JBKEYC9NCGG

Molly paced in front of a map taped to a dented metal locker, a flashlight clenched in her fist like a weapon. Bill sat cross-legged on a milk crate, chewing a sandwich with the enthusiasm of a man who’d never heard of stealth. “Right,” she said, jabbing the map. “We hit the party at seven. The kids will be distracted by the clown’s balloon animals. You’ll—” “Clowns are terrifying,” Bill interrupted, mouth full. “Why not just dress as a fire truck? Kids love fire trucks.” Molly’s eye twitched. “We’re not infiltrating as vehicles, Bill. We’re ghosts. Invisible thieves. Ghosts don’t eat sandwiches.” “Ghosts eat whatever they want,” Bill said, taking another crunch. “Also, why not just steal the presents beforehand? While they’re asleep?” “Because,” Molly hissed, “someone might leave a trail of crumbs. And you’d eat the evidence.” She unfolded a blueprint of the house, its windows like googly eyes. “The back window’s unlocked. You’ll wait in the hedge. I’ll distract the clown with a ‘lost puppy’ ruse. Simple.” Bill nodded solemnly, then took another bite. “What if the puppy is fake?” “Then we improvise.” “What if I choke on this sandwich during the distraction?” Molly threw a crumpled receipt at him. “Worth a shot.”