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!

Skeletor: Further.

Stretch: starting to strain Agh…it won't work. It can't!

Skeletor:
Further.

Stretch: ALRIGHT! Damn it, I'll talk. I'll talk!

Skeletor:
motions for cars to stop

Stretch:
It's…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.

Stretch:
WHAT!?

Foot Soldier:
But sir, he-

Skeletor:
I SAID START THE DAMN HOT WHEELS!

Foot Soldier reluctantly signals to continue pulling.

Stretch: YARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Stretch is pulled to the breaking point. His limbs tear, leaking greenish goo onto the carpet.


Skeletor: excitedly So THAT'S what was inside!