Run: 2026-10-07-01M4ATRA5RNFM0ZBAKNVJ8Y0X8

Molly adjusted her Santa hat in the dim glow of the alleyway. The party music from the house next door pulsed through the night like a taunt. "Alright, Bill, you sure this is the right house? Last time you swore the safe was in the kitchen, and it turned out to be a toaster." Bill squinted at the clipboard in his hands. "I’m positive. The invite said ‘Gigantic Gift Extravaganza.’ That’s code for ‘free loot for us.’" Molly crossed her arms. "And the security?" "One rent-a-cop at the door, a bunch of sugar-crazed kids, and a clown who looks like he’s one balloon animal away from a breakdown. Easy." "Clowns creep me out." "Clowns creep everyone out. That’s why they’re perfect—no one looks at them twice. We waltz in as party entertainment, grab the presents, and waltz out before the cake’s even cut." Molly raised an eyebrow. "We? Since when do you waltz?" Bill ignored her. "You’ll be the magician. I’ll be the… uh… the face painter." "You can’t paint." "I can’t *not* paint. It’s a skill." Molly sighed. "Fine. But if I have to pull a rabbit out of a hat, I’m using your head." Bill grinned. "Deal. Now, the presents are under the tree in the living room. We hit that first, then the gift table by the snacks. Kids’ll be too busy stuffing their faces with cupcakes to notice." "And the rent-a-cop?" Bill pulled a lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it. "Distraction. You drop this near him, he’ll bend down to pick it up—classic. I’ll clock him with a piñata stick." Molly stared. "You’re gonna hit a guy with a piñata stick?" "Non-lethal. Mostly." She rubbed her temples. "Okay, new plan. We go in, we’re *very* friendly, we ‘accidentally’ knock over the present pile into a big sack, and we walk out like we’re just helping clean up." Bill considered it. "That’s… actually smart." "Don’t sound so surprised." "Alright, but what if someone asks why we’re taking the presents?" Molly smirked. "We say we’re delivering them to the *real* North Pole. Kids believe anything." Bill nodded. "Genius. And if the clown sees us?" Molly grabbed a whoopee cushion from her bag and tossed it to him. "Then we make sure he’s too busy sitting on this to care." Bill caught it and grinned. "Molly, this might be our smoothest job yet." She adjusted her fake mustache. "Or our most ridiculous." "Same thing." Bill checked his watch. "Showtime. Remember—smile, nod, and if anyone asks, we’re *definitely* supposed to be here." Molly took a deep breath. "Let’s go steal Christmas."