March to Destruction, part two

A few days ago, there were stormclouds on the horizon. Now, for the dissapointing conclusion!

I should warn you that while describing bodily functions is by and large not how I roll, there's only so much this would allow me to tell you about the idea of putting an American gallon of fluid into my body.

19:01
START THE CLOCK!

Mug one- 19:02
Milk!

Mug two- 19:03
This is going to be a cake-walk!

Mug three- 19:04
Yep, slow and steady is going to win this for me. These guys will soon realise you can't challenge me with impunity.
...
Mug six. 19:14
Well, I guess the task isn't trivial, but I'm more than halfway through the first bottle, I reckon.

Mug eight 19:19
Man, this bottle will just not end. What's going on?

19:21
There it is . One bottle down. Maybe I'll take a little breather.

19:22
Hey Nathan, you're clutching your face.

19:23
(Staring fiexedly at the second, untapped bottle) I've made a terrible mistake.

19:24
Rules enquiry: am I allowed to rinse out my mouth to try to escape the taste of fetid cheese?

19:29
I am lost in a roman.... wilderness of pain.

19:31
Damn. It's the halfway mark, and I still haven't broached the second cask. Maybe I should take off my belt.

19:33
I mean, do we even need another generation of animated IM emoticons?

19:38
Hey Nathan, you're clutching your face again? Does this means bad things are going to happen?
Yes.

19:41
Hey Boss, I'm going to go and spit bile into the toilet bowl. I'll be back to stare at the untouched carton some more in a bit.

19:44
SURRENDER!

Aftermath.

As I am typing this, there is a boiling pain in my stomach. Something is dreadfully wrong.

I can feel my stomach. I don't mean my abdomen, I mean I can press and physically touch a distended, hard mass under my skin.

I REGRET NOTHING.

The snake is long, seven miles