According to absolutely no confirmed information whatsoever, the foam cannon at a fictional car wash in Vice City has been described by commentators as “far too committed” to be background dressing.
One analyst, speaking in the manner of a man who has stared at a wall chart for too long, said the machine’s repeated hiss was “textbook mission language”, especially when paired with the mop bucket’s “unnecessary confidence”.
This has led to the usual conclusion: the map is not merely big, but emotionally complex. One corner must surely contain a side activity involving tides, a missing rubber ring, and a man who calls everyone “champion” for no reason.
A second expert pointed out that a nearby sandwich board seemed “slightly tilted in a way that suggests betrayal”. This, naturally, was taken as evidence of a coastal storyline featuring at least one complicated dock, two suspicious gulls, and a van that smells faintly of oranges.
Rock-solid? No. Entertainingly overblown? Extremely. Sensible readers are advised to admire the foam, laugh at the nonsense, and move on with their day.