“Fuck, do that again,” moaned the South American Plate as the Nazca plate squirmed underneath him, grinding against his most sensitive parts. The Nazca plate obliged, melting at his touch. The friction was too good, and when they rubbed just so, it felt like an earthquake was happening. Oh wait. It was.
“I’m gonna come!” he warned, before the volcano erupted, spurtng hot liquid, and thousands of Chileans died.