She picks the finest 2015 vintage from the shelf behind her, pulling the cork out with her teeth. She pours it into a half-empty pint of 2% milk and shakes it back and forth. Without hesitation, you bite into the side of the carton, the lavender liquid gushing down your throat. It's everything you thought it would be. You can feel your thoughts slowing down to a snail's pace. Then you feel your liver explode. Oh shit, seals can't process alcohol. "ARF ARF ARF!" you scream, as your body spasms and seizes.

You're dead.