Stretch Armstrong is being held captive in the lair of the evil Skeletor. His limbs are tied to toy cars.
Skeletor: Tell me the location of the GI Joe secret headquarters!
Stretch Armstrong: spits in Skeletor's face
Skeletor: You want to make this difficult? Very well. Foot soldiers, warm up the Hot Wheels.
Stretch: Hah! You think you can stretch me to death? That's kind of my thing, man.
Skeletor: There are limits to your powers, Mr. Armstrong.
Foot Soldier: The cars are ready, sir!
Skeletor: Commence stretching.
Stretch: Hah! It's no use, Skeletor!
Stretch: starting to strain Agh
it won't work. It can't!
Stretch: ALRIGHT! Damn it, I'll talk. I'll talk!
Skeletor: motions for cars to stop
under the hood of the old Power Wheels.
Skeletor: See, Stretch? Things are so much easier when you cooperate.
Stretch: You son of a bitch
Skeletor: Now finish the job, men. We're through with him.
Foot Soldier: But sir, he-
Skeletor: I SAID START THE DAMN HOT WHEELS!
Foot Soldier reluctantly signals to continue pulling.
Stretch is pulled to the breaking point. His limbs tear, leaking greenish goo onto the carpet.
Skeletor: excitedly So THAT'S what was inside!