All language subtitles for The Great North s03e11 Arrangerous Minds Adventure.eng

-♪ Look up there ♪
-♪ What do you see? ♪

♪ Nature and stuff ♪

-♪ Like a rock ♪
-♪ And a tree ♪

♪ Oh, the Great North ♪

♪ Way up here,
you can breathe the air ♪

♪ Catch some fish ♪

♪ Or gaze at a bear ♪

♪ Wow ♪

♪ Oh, the Great North ♪

♪ Here we live, oh, oh ♪

♪ Here we'll stay, oh, whoo ♪

♪ From longest night
to longest day ♪

♪ In the Great North. ♪

(cheering)

RUSSELL: Ah.

The trash cans
filled to the brim.

The halls ripe with B.O.

A lone Tater Tot
under the cafeteria table

captured in the fading
afternoon light.

The smell of vomit sawdust
in my nostrils.

This is Junior Janitors.

Are you gonna act
this annoying all the time

during Junior Janitors, Russell,
or is today special?

Moon, today is special

because it's both
of your first days as JJs,

and sure, you guys think it's
just sweeping and gum removal,

but it's also mopping
and spitball removal.

I'm just here
for teacher gossip.

I figured you must overhear
teachers talking

on their cell phones
after hours,

see weird stuff in desk drawers.

I love knowing teacher secrets.

It's the only knowledge
they have that's worthwhile.

Spill it, Russell.

Well, Mr. Branson
has a pair of desk socks

-and something called herpes.
-Keep talking.

Mr. Snee told his wife
that he invented the phrase

"tennis anyone?"
and he's paranoid

that she's gonna
find out the truth.

The librarian, Mrs. Feldspar,
does this one-woman show called

Book Worm By Day,
Magazine Snake By Night.

Russell, just got a call.

Joshua misplaced
his retainer today.

-You know the drill.
-We're on it.

Guys, this is
a full-campus can scan.

Look in every bin,
un-ball every muffin wrapper,

rip open every juice box
and see what she's hiding.

Joshua may have lost
the retainer,

-but he didn't lose us.
-10-4. I'll head north.

Oh, Moon, don't you want
to go with Quinn

because you have
a crush on her and...

Shh, shh, shh, shh.
Shut up, Russell.

I don't have a crush on her.

But, at my birthday party,
you said...

I said I put a curse on her.
You misheard me.

My mistake. I must've had
too much licorice that night.

Well, no crushes here,

but I guess I'll go with her
just to make you happy.

-Aw. Thanks, Moon.
-Hey, Quinn, wait up.

No retainer. Someone did
throw away a tooth, though.

I put it in my pocket
to get five bucks

out of my mom tonight. I already
lost all my baby teeth,

but I'm gonna tell her I grew
one out of the top of my mouth.

She's very gullible.

Uh, Moon,

are you organizing
all the trash?

-That is very weird.
-It is?

Are you really asking me
if it's weird

to organize trash
into a neat grid?

Yeah. I did it just to,
uh, make you laugh,

and now it's all messed up

and normal, and we can forget
about it forever. Great.

-Find anything?
-Nope.

But Moon was putting
his trash into a weird pattern.

As a joke.
(chuckles)

All right, the only room left
is Mr. Golovkin's.

If it's not there,
it's in God's mouth now.

QUINN:
Receipt for Jazz Hits of the '60s

and... a love letter?

The bottom's torn off,
but I assume it ended

with a big ol' lipstick kiss.

Oh, it's to Ms. Anderson.

That's a pretty good secret.
Right, Quinn?

Russell, no.
Everyone knows about them.

Remember? Corine saw them
kissing near the VCR store.

-(gasps) The retainer!
-Another successful rescue.

Joshua's teeth
can rest easy tonight.

So, uh, today was pretty fun.

All the, uh, trash.

Now I know what all the hubbub
is about dumpster diving.

Yeah. It sucks that we
have to wait a whole week

until we can do
Junior Janitors again.

I mean, because
the janitor stuff was fun,

not because I want
to hang out with you.

Oh, yeah, no, me neither.

I don't care about you,
like, at all.

Same. I barely noticed
you were there.

Oh, me, too. Yup.

But it is gonna be a long time
with no new teacher secrets,

and I'll miss that part,
not you.

Yes, I will miss that part, too.
The teacher secrets.

-Definitely.
-Well, if you find out anything weird

about teachers,
I guess, let me know.

I could do that.

Unless, you're
too busy organizing

rotting banana peels
or something.

That's my ride.

Hey, Mom, a tooth
just fell out of my ear.

To the bank, milady.

(sighs) There she goes,
the perfect woman.

-Hello, Mr. Golovkin.
-Aah!

-You're here late.
-Don't sneak up on people.

I didn't sneak. I was standing
here the whole time.

Well, I didn't see you.
You should be taller.

-What's with that big pot?
-It's nothing.

I'm cooking someone...
for someone.

I'm cooking for a friend.

And also,
it's none of your business

and I was never here.
Okay? Great. Bye.

Hm, Mr. Golovkin stealing
a giant pot from school.

Seems like
hot teacher goss to me.

Better tell Quinn about it.

HONEYBEE: Ugh, I hate that we
have to do this at night.

I'm freezing.
My butt cheeks are like ice.

I love wildlife,
but not like this.

I hate it, too, I know. But we
have to use the cover of night

to find crab skeletons
to photograph.

'Cause if my family
finds out what we're up to,

-we'll be living in an RV in
Ketchikan by tomorrow morning. -Ooh!

There's one. Remember to use
your crab corpse checking stick

to make sure it's dead, babe.

You've already been pinched
to hell tonight.

Well, would you look
at this delicious crab cake.

I'm sorry,
I shouldn't have said that.

You probably lost
a lot of family that way.

And I'll just put
your little crab arm like so.

-(knock on door)
-BEEF: Hello, knife-sharpening fairy.

-(Wolf gasps)
-Anyone have anything for me?

-Dad! Uh, uh, Dad.
-(gasps)

Good God!
Not whims-idermy!

I know what this looks like,

but we were not posing
dead animals whimsically

for our pleasure.

Don't lie to me.
You are clearly staging

dead wildlife
in amusing scenarios.

We don't do that in this family.

(clears throat)
"Wolf and Honeybee,

"when you use crab skeletons

for your personal pleasure,
it hurts me because..."

Guys, no need for an
intervention, we can explain.

We know it's wrong
to pose dead wildlife

in a wacky and lighthearted way.

But this shell-sherad is unholy.
It's unholy,

and I frown on it
with all my might.

And I frown with my father.

Read you loud and clear,
but the thing is,

Honeybee and I were gonna enter

the Alaska Fisherman's
Coalition calendar competition,

where whims-idermy
reigns supreme.

Remember last year's winner,
the Badger Barbecue?

They all had those
cute little aprons on.

That's why our theme
was Crab Cowboys.

But, Wolf, we never go
to the calendar competition

and we throw
the calendar itself away

when the free one
arrives in the mail.

Yeah, but we wanted to win
the competition this year

because, well... we wanted to...

(sighs)
win a honeymoon.

What are you talking about?

This year's calendar winner
gets a three-night stay

at The Swan and the Scone
Bed and Breakfast in Fairbanks.

We were thinking it'd be like
a mini-honeymoon.

We never had one.
After the wedding,

we just drove Honeybee's family
to the airport

and the van broke down.

Oh, yeah, and I barfed a bunch

because I ate 15 pieces
of wedding cake

and the little plastic
bride and groom on top.

I assumed they were candy.

Well, I want to help you
achieve this dream,

but there must be a way we can
make a great crab calendar

without posing their corpses.

A way to show everybody
that whims-idermy

is not necessary to win.

Yeah, we can all help you win.

It's a deal.

Time to put the "crab"
back in "crab-lendar."

Getting crabs with my dad.

-This is what life is all about.
-Babe, no.

MOON:
All right, guys,

emergency
Junior Janitor business.

After you left last night,

I saw Mr. Golovkin
take a giant metal pot

from school after-hours
so no one would see him.

I'm thinking we should do
some extra Junior Janitoring

this week to figure out
what's going on.

You think he's cooking
something weird?

-Like something illegal?
-Like drugs?

(gasps)
Or alcohol?

Well, he did say
he was cooking someone,

but then he said he was
cooking for someone, so...

Oh, my God!
He must have murdered someone

and now he's making them
into soup.

-Uh, I doubt he's...
-But who did he kill?

(gasps)
Wait, there was a sub

in Ms. Anderson's class
this morning.

Oh, my God, the torn-up note.

It probably ended with,
"I love you,

but I'm a serial killer
and I'm gonna murder you."

Better go see what
that maniac is up to now.

Boring.
He's just drinking coffee.

(gasps)
But look at his mug.

"Don't talk to me
before I've had my coffee or

-I'll kill you!" (gasps)
-Oh, my God.

Well, janitors, looks like we
have a crime scene to clean up.

Okay, let's run down
the facts we know.

Fact one: Mr. Golovkin
murdered Ms. Anderson.

Fact two: he's planning
to cook her body.

Fact three: facts one and two
could be wrong

and they're slow-roasting a
big ol' batch of breaking bads.

Look, either one of you
could be right,

and we definitely need to spend
a lot of time together

to figure it out.

What if we all followed
Mr. Golovkin after school,

or just me and Quinn
if you're busy, Russell.

-Free as a bird.
-Wonderful.

We can tail him
on my family's snow machine.

My mom lets me drive it
as long as I wear my helmet,

but sometimes, I don't cinch
the chin strap all the way.

-It chafes.
-Bad ass.

I'll need my janitorial go-bag.
It's mostly candy,

but there's a couple
useful things in here, too.

Oh, and is it okay if I sandwich

in between you guys
on the snow machine?

-I get very cold.
-Ugh, sure.

Ugh, those must be
Mr. Golovkin's murderer friends.

Say no to drugs, kids,

'cause this is the result,
and it ain't pretty.

QUINN:
They must be wearing the train conductor outfits as disguises.

It's probably how they
travel the world murdering

and don't get caught.

Yeah, those evil bastards.

And they probably brought
those little train whistles

so they can blow them
to celebrate

Mr. Golovkin's latest kill.

What a bunch of sickos.

Oh, he's on the move.
Let's go.

(whistles)

Look at that fancy drug den

paid for
with cocaine and murders.

(scoffs)
Must be nice.

He's headed to the basement.
Follow me.

MR. GOLOVKIN:
You stay right there. I'll be back, and then

-I'll finish you off.
-Oh, God,

he does have
Ms. Anderson in there.

I'm actually slightly scared.

I've got a free hand to hold
if anyone needs it.

I'll take you up on that.
Thanks, buddy.

-Mm.
-Ah.

-That hits the spot.
-(car door opens)

He's leaving.

Time to rescue Ms. Anderson.

Ah, there's my Star Trek
stress ball. Thank God.

-(grunts) We're in.
-(grunts)

QUINN:
(gasps) That must be his kill room.

There's the pot from school.

Ugh, these drugs
smell like vinegar.

There's some kind of blob
in there,

and it's... (gasps)
it's floating up.

(all scream)

Is that Ms. Anderson?

We'll save you, Ms. Anderson.
We'll get you out of there.

(kids scream)

-(grunts)
-Ow!

Did you throw
a Skittle at my eye?

Please, don't cook us
in your drug pot.

Okay, guys, Honeybee and I
need that h-moon,

and we need
to pull out all the stops,

but we also don't want
to be d-bags

who are using crab corpses
for sick entertainment purposes,

like Dad said, so...

-Ta-da.
-Oh, boy.

We will place the little diapers
on the live crabs,

so they'll look
like Baby New Years.

Grab some quick pictures
in front of this backdrop,

and then we will very
respectfully eat these bad boys.

Okay, um, great plan, guys.
I just am not sure we can, uh,

make the crabs stand still
or put the costumes on them.

I don't know if you guys
know this,

but crabs love to pinch.

Way ahead of you, buddy.
That's what the gloves are for.

All right, I'm gonna grab
them up, and then... Ow, ow!

-Aah! Aah!
-(all scream) -Hold still, son.

Let me just... Oh, no!
He's got my mustache!

-Honeybee, grab the diaper!
-I got it, I got it.

(overlapping shouting)

-Watch it.
-No, not my beautiful face!

We're all gonna die!

-That Skittle
really hurt, Russell. -Sorry.

Now, what on earth are you
children doing in my home?

We're the ones that should be
asking the questions.

Oh, really?
And why is that?

Because you're a murderer.

You cooked Ms. Anderson
in that pot.

Or drugs.
We haven't decided yet.

(laughs)
I'm sorry.

It's very funny to me that you
think I cooked a woman in a pot.

No, I'm afraid that pot merely
contains my homebrew kombucha.

Are you guys bored
and doing a Rear Window?

-A what?
-You see that poster?

You're doing that movie.
That's what you're doing.

You saw me do, like,
one suspicious thing

and then decided
I was a murderer.

-So, Ms. Anderson...
-Is fine.

She's at home on a staycation.

In fact, she just posted a meme

of The Incredible Hulk
getting into a hot tub

that says, "Hulk Splash,"

and captioned it,
"I'm living my best life."

It's me that everyone
should be concerned about.

She broke up with me

on the literal day
she was going to move in here.

I've been distracting myself
by making

an extra big batch
of my favorite drink

using that pot that, yes,
you did catch me stealing

from school, but now it's ruined

because a child
broke into my home

and threw Skittles in it because
he thought I boiled a lady.

So, what exactly happened
with Ms. Anderson?

Sure, let me tell a bunch
of children about it, why not?

I was in love
with a dame, you see.

And yes, I am telling this
in the style of a film noir.

Deal with it. Like I was saying,
this dame was

all set to shuffle
her deck with mine,

but she had a request.

I had some time to think
on the drive over, Theodore.

When I move in,
how's about you reroute

the train set that goes
through the family room?

Thataway, when our gals
and pals come over,

then we don't have to
step over it,

and maybe we can take the tracks
out of the bathroom, too,

so it doesn't roll through there
when I'm taking a pee.

Ah, Mary, you know I'd do near
about anything for you, kid,

but the train's
impossible to move.

That's where it goes.

It's a scale model
of the Santa Fe Railroad,

so it has to follow its route.

If I move it, it's chaos, baby,

and the whole kit and caboodle
goes kablooey, see.

Well, then maybe we move
some of your memorabilia

out of the house.
That can move real easy.

Thataway, I'd have some space
for my stuff.

Ah, see, again, Mary,
it's all in the right spot.

Impossible to move.

Well, could you at least
stop making

that gross vinegar drink
in the house?

The whole place
stinks like a rat.

Oh, baby, I would if I could,
but I can't.

I needs it for my digestion.

And that's when she used

those gorgeous getaway sticks
to run out on me.

Now she's letting
a big green guy with muscles

sitting in a jacuzzi
do all her talking.

So, she broke up with you

because you didn't
want to move your toys

that you had carefully
and weirdly organized?

They are not toys, they are
very adult collectible items.

But here's a little warning.
If any of you guys

like to organize stuff,
just give it up now.

-Moon likes to organize garbage.
-I don't. No, that's...

Well, cut it out, young man,
'cause that's a one-way ticket

to dying alone.
Russell, I swear to God.

Yup. Uh...
(chuckles) Sorry.

MR. GOLOVKIN:
If any of you guys like to organize stuff,

you better give it up now,

'cause that's a one-way ticket

to dying alone...

alone... alone... alone.

Organized by date found
and number of legs.

Organized by season,

size, and color.

Lined up in order of height.

Oh, no. I'm a Golovkin.

Well, that's it, buster.
I'm all packed and moving out.

And I'm taking our kids,
Calliope and Jim.

Both of 'em, huh?

Yeah.
There's no room for us here

with all your organized stuff,
you hear me?

Yeah, well, I need to have
a bunch of bugs and stuff

perfectly arranged in my house,

so bye-bye to you and Jim
and the other one.

All right then.
(blows raspberry)

Gah!

What do women like?

Oh. Whoa. Wow.
Yeah, lot of image results.

That's a gal with boobs
near a tractor.

Okay, scrolling down.

Okay, now this lady's
shoveling hay without pants.

What is going on on this farm?
Let's shift gears.

New search.
This should be safe.

"Too organized."

Wait, what's "ocked"?

Oh, OCD? Huh.

Hm... Welp.

No.

Go away.

I can't. Mr. Golovkin,
I'm here to move in with you

because we are both full freaks
that no woman could ever love.

What on earth are you
yammering about, Moon?

You have your
weird little trains.

I have my cataloged insects
and my owl decoys

and my very organized collection
of off-brand Smurfs, the Smarps.

Moon, you have got to start
making sense right now

-or I'm calling the police.
-Mr. Golovkin, I've learned,

after 15 minutes
of Internet research,

that we both probably have
obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Moon, I don't have OCD.
That's what Monk had.

I don't wash my hands that much
and I don't solve crimes.

Okay, but do you ever feel like
one little thing

being out of order might lead
to chaos, horror, and death?

Of course, because it will.
Goodbye.

So, if you don't have OCD,
then you could change that stuff

that Ms. Anderson wanted you to.

Like, it wouldn't bother you
if we went in

and rearranged some stuff.

Oh, I don't know.
Would it bother you

if I went into your room
and rearranged

your diaper collection
because you're a little baby?

Sorry, Moon.
That was out of line.

Look, you're my student.
You're here on a Saturday.

I highly doubt
you care that much

about my personal relationships.
What is this really about?

Fine. I have a curse...

a crush on Quinn,

and she made fun of me
for organizing some stuff,

specifically some trash.

Yup, yup, I see.
You're scared you're me,

and I accidentally
told an actual student

he was gonna die alone,

and it would probably
make you feel better

to see that I could change.

-Worth a shot?
-Oh, screw it.

My life could literally
not get worse right now.

A child in bear pajamas is
giving me mental health advice.

This is it, this is rock bottom.

Might as well steer
into the skid.

Okay, guys,
it's looking great down here,

so come down when you're ready.

Renting these costumes
was a great idea.

All the fun of posing wildlife,
none of the danger.

Yes, this is
much more dignified.

Also, very hard to walk in.

They are somehow both top-heavy
and bottom-heavy.

Yeah, we really should've
put these on downstairs.

(shouts)

(gasps)
Babe, you okay?

WOLF:
I'm fine, maybe. Maybe a broken arm.

I'm coming down to help.
Aah!

-Aah! A-Aah!
-(grunts)

-My turn, I guess.
-Son, no!

-Whoa!
-Crabdammit!

-(all groaning)
-Okay, well,

that went perfectly.

Okay, so maybe
we clear out the shed

and move the kombucha kit
out here,

so your house doesn't
stink like a rat.

Impossible. Where would
all of my shed equipment go?

-The garage.
-Oh, sure, shed equipment

in a garage, that's a thing.

Listen, just take the shovel

off of the wall hook,
place it on the ground,

and put something else
in its place.

(scoffs) All right. Sounds
pretty stupid, but, honestly,

I'm surprised it's not
something more stupid.

Nope, nope, nope, nope,
nope, nope, nope.

That's not where it goes.
The Weedwacker goes here

and the shovel... the shovel...

-Mr. Golovkin, no.
-(grunts) Moon,

that shovel has a place, and
that place is not in your hand.

-(grunts)
-Hey!

Let me out of here this instant.
Help. Help.

A child has moved my shovel from
its proper place in the shed!

This is kidnapping,
or adult-napping by kid.

Regardless,
release me immediately.

Um, no.

I don't like
being alone in here.

I'm gonna get trapped
in my brain.

Okay, great, now I am stuck
in my head.

-You are?
-Oh, and there is a little imaginary you here, too.

-Wonderful.
-So, this is inside your head?

-It's nice. Like the curtains.
-Yup, whenever I get stressed,

this clockhole shows up and
starts ringing his alarm bells.

I have no idea who he is, but
he is desperate for attention.

Hi, little fella.
I'm OCD.

Do you ever think about
how messed-up everything is?

Me too. All the time.

♪ Well, you can
catch a disease ♪

♪ Or your girlfriend
could cheat ♪

♪ You could get gangrene
in your feet ♪

♪ Plus, an earthquake
could happen ♪

♪ Sending glass
shattering down ♪

♪ Then it slices off
your nipples ♪

♪ Drops them
right on the ground ♪

♪ If you don't line up
your crap ♪

♪ Or occasionally lick a table ♪

♪ You'll probably get cancer
from an underground cable ♪

♪ Ah... ♪

All reasonable concerns.

So, OCD isn't just about
washing hands

or, like, arranging pencils?

Oh, no, that's just TV OCD.

I'm actually a disabling pattern
of disturbing obsessions

and repetitive behaviors
that make it very hard

to live a normal life.
I'm a stone-cold freak.

♪ Obsess about the thing
you said at work ♪

♪ I think Pam was offended ♪

♪ She made a strange smirk ♪

♪ And you didn't
check the stove ♪

♪ Better call
your neighbor, Brian ♪

♪ Maybe you didn't unplug
the curling iron, hmm? ♪

I don't have a curling iron.

♪ But maybe someone
snuck into your house ♪

♪ And plugged one in
while you were away... ♪

-Oh, my God.
-Yeah, I mean...

♪ What if, for some reason,
you eat your own eyes ♪

♪ There's so many
interesting ways to die... ♪

Stop!
Wow, I just...

I can't believe how much
of my time I've given this guy.

Oh, no, you don't like me?

Fine, maybe I'll go in
the little kid's head instead.

Uh-uh!
You stay away from me.

♪ You've been
my lifelong companion ♪

♪ And maybe I'm a little stuck ♪

♪ So, I guess
I'll try some therapy ♪

♪ 'Cause, frankly ♪

-♪ Buddy, you suck ♪
-♪ Buddy, you suck ♪

♪ Buddy, you suck. ♪

-(Mr. Golovkin humming a tune)
-Uh, Mr. Golovkin?

You okay in there?

You've just been humming
for, like, five minutes.

Yes.
I was just imagining

I was in a big 1930s-style
musical with a clock,

and you were there, too,
in a tiny tuxedo... Never mind.

-Oh. Okay.
-(sighs)

Okay, Moon.
It's time.

You win. Let's take this stuff
to the garage.

MOON:
Mr. Golovkin, is that everything?

Are you okay?

Yeah. I think you
actually helped me, Moon.

And I don't think
you're gonna wind up like me

because if you...
if we have this thing,

well, you already know about it,

and that's great.
Also, we're not the same

because you'll never be able
to fully appreciate

the genius of Jules Dassin.
He was a director.

Look it up, and thank you.

The eagle has landed.

-Hello, Mary.
-I got your text.

Thank you for coming.
And, again,

apologies for
the autocorrect snafu.

"I'm horny.
Penis forgive me"

was not how I intended
this conversation to start.

It's okay.
I'm willing to hear you out.

Great, because
I've made some changes.

Okay, but if you just
gave everyone in Train Land

sunglasses again,
I shouldn't come in.

No, no, no. Please.

Whoa, it is tense here.

Who knew the world
of competitive calendar-ing

would be so ruthless?

Look, Wolf, Honeybee,
I know I resisted

doing your whims-idermy,
but several injuries later,

I do see the wisdom
of working with cadavers

instead of live animals,

so here's hoping
these crustacean cowpokes

earn you the yee-holiday
of your dreams.

This is the judges'
final walk-through.

Whoever they award
the blue ribbon to gets

-the three-night hotel stay.
-Oh, come on.

-Birds in ball gowns?
-HONEYBEE: Ugh. Can't beat a classic.

Well, we didn't win a honeymoon,

but we did get to go to three
different emergency rooms.

Excuse me, Honeybee and Wolf,
how much would it be

for me to acquire one of your
very fascinating crab calendars?

They're uh... uh...

-$40.
-Would you take $50?

For you Santiago,
let's call it $55.

How about $100?

Keep going, babe.
Let's go to Maui.

$300.
No, five.

QUINN:
Did you organize

-all these?
-Yeah, according to height.

But, look,
I'm tipping this one over,

and it doesn't even bother me.

Whatever you say, Moon.

Hey, did I tell you
I found a photo album

in Gibbons' desk drawer?

It only has pictures of the
Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man in it.

-Should we investigate?
-I'm in.

Because I like investigating,
not because I like you.

Oh, same.
Very, very the same.

♪ Well, I've seen things
you can't imagine ♪

♪ I've smelled smells
you just can't fathom ♪

♪ When someone barfs
on a chili day ♪

♪ It's not an angel that takes
the stains away, it's me ♪

♪ 'Cause I'm a Junior Janitor ♪

♪ A rat scuttlin' round
the cafeteria ♪

♪ A stomach flu
featuring diarrhea-ra ♪

♪ You don't see it,
and you don't hear-a-ra ♪

♪ But I protect you
'cause I'm a Junior Janitor ♪

♪ Someday, when my maker
comes to call ♪

♪ I'll say, "Lord, I got
to stay here in these halls ♪

♪ Looking for a kindergartner's
bouncy ball" ♪

♪ 'Cause that's my job, yeah,
I'm a Junior Janitor ♪

♪ You're a bunch of slobs
but I'm a Junior Janitor. ♪

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