Ugh! I just can't get rid of this grime!

Did you say, grime?

Yes.

I'll make short work of that grime.

For my name isn't Señor Cleanfist!

And it is.

Hey! What the hell, man!

Pretty clean if I do say so myself.
And I do.

If only complaining about how difficult
washing this car is

would yield some immediately 
easier alternative.

Did you say, grime?

No.

You're welcome.

Screw you, you dumb bitch.

I want a dessert and I want it now!

That's no way to speak to 
your mother, young man.

It's time to wash that dirty
mouth of yours.

Thank you, Señor Cleanfist!

He's clean.