Tartar consumes a tube of dentifrice

Greetings; it is I, Robert Robus. I welcome you, once again, to the musings of I. It is a beautiful morning; and, as such, I stand here in the bathroom of my stately abode with my good friend Tartar. Why, you ask? In all truthlessness, it is really quite simple: for Tartar has given word that, in order to complete a bet lately posited by his companion Ronald, he shall soon undertake to consume a tube of dentifrice.

I shall now not unbraggartily admit that I, Robert Robus, have never ingested much dentifrice in one sitting. Of course, there was that time in '86 when an angry cow slammed me from behind and made me ram a tube of Colgate (the which I happened to be holding at the time) well into my trachea; but that doesn't count, folks--that doesn't count! For I, Robert Robus, am much too sensible to snarf dentifrice.

At any rate: Tartar has now activated the "webcam" over which he shall transmit the sure-to-be-priceless footage; now he is smiling perversely into said "webcam"; and now he is eating the toothpaste! Ah, look, folks--observe how he has lifted said tube to his facial orifice; see how skilfully he squeezes the tube of dentifrice so that its thick, gooey contents plunge into his throat. Oh, this is glorious, this is truly glorious; in fact, I may be brought to tears by this display! (But no: for I, Robert Robus, am far too macho a personage ever to snivel.)

And, as Tartar squeezes the the last contents of the formerly gargantuan tube of toothpaste into his facial orifice, gulps down the last tablespoons of the substance, burps, and says into the webcam, "Ha, ha, Ronald, you owe me five bucks," I must bid you, my faithful readers, adieu. Please return another day for more fructiferous musings, and many further ridiculous narratives, from the fecund nib of I, Robert Robus.