Run: 2026-10-07-01M4AVNJ49AFN3D4ZBH7Q973PT

Molly adjusted her Santa hat, the jingle bells sewn into the brim clinking softly. The party was in full swing inside the McAllister mansion, the sound of children’s laughter and pop music spilling through the open windows. She turned to Bill, who was struggling to tie a fake beard over his face. You look ridiculous, she said. Bill yanked the beard into place. And you don’t? That hat’s got more glitter than a disco ball. It’s festive. We’re supposed to blend in. As what? A pair of deranged elves? Molly sighed. Just follow the plan. We go in through the back, grab the presents, and slip out before anyone notices. And if someone does notice? We smile and say we’re the entertainment. Bill snorted. Right. Because nothing says clown act like two adults stuffing their bags with Barbie dream houses. Molly checked her watch. The parents are all in the kitchen, the kids are distracted by the magician. Now’s our chance. Bill adjusted his oversized red coat. You sure this is worth it? Last time we hit a birthday party, we ended up with a piñata full of confetti and a lifetime ban from Chuck E. Cheese. That was your fault. You got greedy with the token machine. And you didn’t stop me. Molly rolled her eyes. Focus. The presents are under the tree in the living room. We grab, we go. What if there’s a dog? There’s no dog. How do you know? Because if there was, we’d hear it barking at the magician’s terrible jokes. Bill nodded. Fair point. They crouched behind a bush as a group of kids ran past, shrieking. Molly waited until the coast was clear, then gestured toward the back door. Ready? No. Why not? Because I just realized—what if the presents are for charity? Molly groaned. Bill, we’re thieves, not saints. Yeah, but stealing from kids? We’re stealing from rich kids. They’ve got fifty more presents at home. Bill scratched his beard. Still feels wrong. Molly grabbed his arm. Then think of it as redistributing wealth. Robin Hood style. Robin Hood didn’t wear a Santa hat. He would’ve if it helped the cause. Bill sighed. Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you. Deal. Now move. They crept toward the door, the sound of the magician’s failed rabbit trick covering their footsteps. Molly turned the handle slowly, the door creaking open just enough for them to slip inside. See? she whispered. Easy. Bill’s foot caught on a stray toy car, sending it skidding across the floor. Not so easy, he muttered. Molly grabbed his collar. Just keep moving. They inched toward the living room, the towering pile of presents glinting under the twinkling lights. Molly grinned. Jackpot. Bill swallowed. Or a one-way ticket to jail. Too late now. Molly reached for the first box. Let’s get to work.