imagine saying “i’m dad” to a dad. he responds with “hi dad, i’m—” but then he stops. fear strikes up in his eyes. YOU’re dad? he thought he was dad all along? what is his true identity? who is dad? what horrible mistake has he made
“I have decided to keep a diary and draw a score for every poop I take for the rest of my life. When I die, I will leave all these diaries to your brother in my will and he will frantically search to the answer for what these scores represent and he will never know that they are actually my poop counters. Don’t tell your brother. This is top secret.”
Are you really Neil Gaiman? I am feeling very suspicious.
Ah, you’ve caught me. I am an international consortium of playboys, who have banded together to fight crime anonymously. “Neil Gaiman” is merely an identity we use when necessary to gain entry to underground lairs and casinos.