You spontaneously combust. You sprint and scream in an attempt to extinguish the flames, but the engulfing inferno only rages stronger. After a short while, you fall to your face in the dust and slowly crackle into a pile of embers. As the years pass and the road grows ever more weathered, your ashes are responsible for an oak sapling on the roadside named George. George is soon followed by a forest of magically self-aware and similarly minded trees who can't stand the sights of noisy, rude, and grimy little travelers. One day, a small young girl by the name of Sally comes up and hugs the tree. Sally likes trees. George quivers and wraps a mighty branch around Sally's neck. George can't help a smirk as he watches the pathetic human go limp and pale in his grasp. Stuffing her in his biggest knot, one of the trees remark: "Oh look, he caught another one. That one guy must've burnt pretty well to make you. They don't make 'em like George anymore." George replies, "Damn right. I do believe I have the finest ash-hole around."