Run: 2026-09-25-01M3CKJXP1EE37NPMT8EJQN0X8

Molly adjusted her Santa hat in the dim glow of the alleyway. "You sure this is the right house, Bill? The sign says ‘Happy 8th Birthday, Timmy’ but the balloons look like they’ve seen better days." Bill squinted at the clipboard. "According to the invite, the party starts in ten minutes. Parents’ll be too busy herding sugar-crazed kids to notice us." "Right, because nothing says ‘blend in’ like two adults in elf costumes." Molly tugged at her itchy green tights. "We look like we escaped from a Christmas pep rally." Bill adjusted his fake beard. "Better than looking like burglars. Besides, who suspects Santa’s little helpers?" Molly sighed. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling the cops you forced me into this." Bill grinned. "You’d throw me under the bus that fast?" "Faster. Now, what’s the play?" Bill pointed at the back door. "Kitchen’s unlocked. We slip in, grab the presents, and slip out before the cake’s even cut." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And the parents?" "Distracted by chaos. Kids are a built-in diversion." Molly nodded. "Alright. But if some rug rat asks for a pony ride, you’re handling it." Bill groaned. "I hate ponies." They crept toward the house, the sound of laughter and party music growing louder. Molly paused at the door. "You hear that? That’s the sound of tiny humans with zero situational awareness." Bill turned the knob. "And that, my dear, is our window." The door swung open, revealing a kitchen piled high with wrapped gifts. Molly whistled. "Jackpot. That’s gotta be, what, two hundred bucks’ worth of LEGO?" Bill grabbed a sack. "More if we hit the good stuff. I call dibs on the bike." Molly rolled her eyes. "You’re a grown man." "Exactly. I’ve earned it." A child’s voice echoed from the living room. "Mom, where’s Santa?" Bill froze. Molly shoved him toward the hallway. "Go. Now." Bill stumbled, nearly knocking over a tower of juice boxes. "I’m going, I’m going!" Molly grabbed a handful of presents. "And take the bike. I don’t want to hear about it later." Bill stuffed the sack under his arm. "You’re the best partner a thief could ask for." Molly smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Now move before we get caught red-handed with a Barbie Dreamhouse." They bolted for the back door just as a chorus of "Happy Birthday" erupted. Bill grinned. "Told you. Perfect timing." Molly adjusted her hat. "Next time, we hit a retirement home. Less running."