Imagine having a sexual attraction to dirt. Think of it: you are hiking through the woods, when all of the sudden you see a beautiful patch of dirt. You try to walk away, but your boner is too strong, and like opposing poles of two magnets, you are attracted to that oh so virgin ground. You get on your knees. They will get dirty but it will be more sexy and promiscuous. You grab two vines on the forest floor and go to town. After you blow your load, you stand up, dust off your knees, and are halfway through zipping up your jeans when you realize something: you didn't check the undergrowth before the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. You shakily walk over to the clearing, and the horrific realization only now begins to dawn on you as your ♥♥♥♥ and balls feel itchy. You have just ♥♥♥♥♥♥ poison ivy. Over the weeks that follow, your ♥♥♥♥ shrinks until it starts retreating into your scrotum. Your balls twist, one grows to the size of a grapefruit, and explodes, destroying the other in the process. You fall fatally ill. You lay on your deathbed, waiting for the angle of darkness to come. However, as you lie there in pain, you begin to feel something in your throat. Your heart crawls out of your mouth, and walks onto your chest. It brandishes a sword. It screams. You scream. Your parents scream. The doctors scream. Then, it commits seppku, and your eyes roll backward. The noise of the flatline echoes throughout the room. Such is the fitting end to a person with such a bizarre fetish.