Melissa hyping the launch like a deranged infomercial) Deadeye stompin' the pedal, white truck buckin' like a rodeo bull with hemorrhoids, Hollerin' "GOLD RICHES INCOMIN'!" while the muffler farts smoke signals of pure void. Back seat Armageddon: Tracy and Chewy now a single four-legged regret centaur, Tracy's arm pinned under Chewy's butt, Chewy's hip screamin' "I WANT A DIVORCE, YA HEAR?!" Tracy wheezes: "YOUR HIP IS LITERALLY SAWING MY SPINE IN HALF!" Chewy retorts: "MY HIP JUST APPLIED FOR POLITICAL ASYLUM IN MEXICO!" Melissa shotgun, livestreamin' the chaos on zero bars: "This is peak humanity, subscribers incoming!" (Chorus – squad screeching like banshees in a wind tunnel) NO GOLD! JUST COLD! ASSES NOW CERTIFIED ICE SCULPTURES! Mishaps pilin' up like bad decisions at a clown funeral! Chewy's hip launched its own podcast called "Why Me?!", Tracy's dignity ghosted the group—blocked, no closure! Out of breath? Out of sanity? Blue as Smurf roadkill! White truck survivors? More like "why didn't we Uber to therapy" skill! Tracy, Chewy backseat fusion experiment gone wrong, Melissa meme lord, Deadeye delusion king—fail squad strong! (Verse 2 – Mishap explosion, non-stop cartoon violence) Mishap #1: Chewy lunges for a shiny rock—trips over his own frozen shoelace, does a full 720 flip, lands face-first in a pile of duck poop (yes, ducks hate us too). Tracy tries to pull him up—slips on the same poop, slides 20 feet like a human Slip 'N Slide, ends up hugging a cactus butt-first: "MY CHEEKS ARE NOW PIN CUSHIONS!" Deadeye "assists" by throwing the shovel like a javelin—impales a tree instead, shovel vibrates like a possessed dildo, scares a family of raccoons into attacking Chewy's hat. Melissa films it all: "Raccoon ambush! Super like if you hate gold!"—then her phone freezes to her hand like glue, rips skin when she yanks it: "CONTENT TAX PAID!" (Verse 3 – Even more mishaps, escalating to interdimensional stupidity) Mishap #4: Tracy finally swirls a pan—gets excited, spins too hard, flings gravel straight into Deadeye's open mouth mid-yell: he chokes, coughs up a tiny pebble like a cat with a hairball, yells "THAT WAS MY FUTURE MILLIONS!" Chewy, still poop-covered, bends to rinse his face—hip fully seizes, locks him in a permanent "touching toes" yoga pose: "I'M A HUMAN PRETZEL! SOMEONE UNFOLD ME BEFORE I BECOME ART!" Melissa tries the "dramatic slow-mo pan reveal"—trips over Chewy's locked legs, cannonballs into the river, emerges with a live crayfish clamped to her nose: "IT'S TRYING TO STEAL MY FACE!" Deadeye wades in to "save" her—steps on a super-slippery rock, does the splits mid-water, screams in a pitch only dogs can hear, hat floats downstream like it's quitting the band. (Verse 4 – Final boss-level fails, no survivors) Mishap #7: Tracy fishes for Melissa's phone (still in the water)—leans too far, topples in like a felled tree, creates a tidal wave that soaks everyone, then a random trout leaps out and slaps Deadeye across the face like

Funny river