[J.D. walks out of the elevator as the Janitor mops the floor]
Janitor: Hey!
J.D.: What? I didn't say anything. I didn't do anything. What imaginary slight have you concocted in that paranoid brain of yours?
[The Janitor looks down to the trail of muddy footprints trailing J.D.]
J.D.: [v.o.] Crap.
J.D.: Well, shouldn't there be some sort of sign... Oh, look at that. Well, you should put it back down before someone slips and falls.
Janitor: Oh, is that what I should do? Good, because I make most decisions based on your opinion. You know what, I'm thinking of splitting up with the wife. Maybe you could mull that over, get back to me, maybe pow-wow. [a woman slips] Floor's wet, ma'am. Little help over here. Little help.