No sir, you may not open my jar of secrets.
Why? Well, sir if you listen they’ll be spoiled.
No, not like milk. They’ll be running amok, not secrets anymore.
Doesn’t matter? But it does matter to me sir. They are my secrets after all.
Well, then show me your own jar if you’re so confident.
Ah, so I thought. Why do you even want my secrets anyways?
Oh, I bow down to you oh great Keeper of Secrets. Try again.
No, sir! I insist you give me back my jar this instant.
Damn, there they go. How can you call yourself the Keeper of Secrets?
I give you my own but they slip through your hands like water.
See that one there? Whispering to the blonde under the maple?
She knows now, knows everything. And I have no secrets once again.
May I please have my jar sir so that I may collect some more?