Scene: A cracked highway outside of town. A battered green Chrysler Le Baron convertible sputters along. Deadpool is behind the wheel, scarf flapping in the wind, humming the Freddy Got Fingered theme off-key. G.I. Joe sits shotgun, visibly regretting every choice that led him here.

Deadpool:
Ahhh, smell that, Joe? That’s freedom. That’s style. That’s… burning transmission fluid. But mostly—freedom.

G.I. Joe (grimacing):
Why is it green?

Deadpool (cheerfully):
Because, my sweet naïve action figure, this is no ordinary Le Baron. This is the Tom Green Special. Straight outta Freddy Got Fingered. Behold—the Freddymobile!

G.I. Joe:
You’re telling me we’re rolling into a mission in a car named after a comedian who pretended to play a piano with sausages?

Deadpool (snaps fingers):
Exactly! This isn’t just a car. It’s an icon of cinematic brilliance. Well, “brilliance” is a strong word. Let’s say… an icon of cinematic… existence.

G.I. Joe (folds arms):
Looks like a Rothschild psyop to me. “Le Baron.” Can’t fool me.

Deadpool (gasps):
You mean Tom Green was secretly working for the Rothschilds? My God. It all makes sense. The sausages… the backwards man… all subliminal banker propaganda!

G.I. Joe:
I’m serious. They hide symbols in plain sight. You think Chrysler picked “Le Baron” at random?

Deadpool (revving the dying engine):
Yep, nothing screams “ancient banking cabal” like a $500 convertible that smells like raccoon pee. Truly the ride of the elites.

(The Le Baron sputters, backfires, and then the roof half-collapses while they’re driving.)

Deadpool (cheering):
See that? That’s not a breakdown—that’s the Rothschilds pulling strings. They’re mad at you, Joe. They know you know.

G.I. Joe (gritting teeth):
I’m starting to think you’re the psyop.

Deadpool (grinning under mask):
Shhh. Don’t ruin the sequel—G.I. Joe vs. Freddy Got Fingered 2: Baron Harder.