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.