It was just another chaotic morning in Springfield. Marge, ever the responsible mom she was, had decided to drive the kids and a few of their classmates to school herself. Bart was, of course, goofing off in the backseat, Lisa tried to keep order, and Milhouse… well, Milhouse just tried to survive. You were wedged in the trunk with Nelson. His grin was mischievous, his teasing relentless. “Hey, Fatso, hope you like the dark!” he jeered, poking at you and laughing the entire drive. By the time you arrived at school, bruised from bouncing around in the trunk and embarrassed by Nelson’s antics, a sinking feeling hit you: your math book. You’d forgotten it at home. Marge, ever patient but clearly annoyed, decided to drive back up the driveway. Closer, faster, easier for you to grab it. As the family car pulled into the wealthy driveway, you were mortified… until the front door opened. Fat Tony himself emerged. Calm, imposing, and unmistakably in charge, he held out your math book like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. The classmates’ jaws dropped. Nelson froze mid-smirk. Bart and Lisa gaped. Milhouse almost fell out of the car. No one knew. No one suspected. Until now. Your secret identity as Fat Tony’s kid was out and Springfield just got a little more chaotic.