Opening a can of Heinz Real Ghostbusters Pasta from 1992: a thread. (1/8)

You might be wondering why I’d ruin such a collectible. Well, that’s why. The stuff inside was starting to seep right through the can, blemishing the label with sticky black patches. Freeing the *source* of those black patches seemed risky, but hey, I made a promise. (2/8)

For the record, I did this outside, while wearing a mask and gloves. I also used our worst can opener, which will never be used again. There is a high probability that one of my neighbors watched this whole thing play out in real time. (3/8)

Oh man. I was not expecting that. The pasta solidified into a giant reddish wad. The stench was immediately noticeable, and absolutely horrible. Picture the dirtiest fish tank ever, and then add a whole jar of oregano. (4/8)

As I scooped the pasta out, the odor only grew worse. It was a dangerous smell. The pasta itself did not look too atrocious at first, but then I noticed little black spots dotted throughout, as if it’d gotten that greyscale disease from Game of Thrones. (5/8)

It took forever to get all of the pasta out of the can. Honestly, there was more pasta in that can than seemed physically possible. It was like the can was a portal to some horrible parallel dimension stuffed with endless, godless Real Ghostbusters Pasta. (6/8)

If you’re curious about what the pasta shapes are supposed to represent, well… it’s hard to tell. I think I see the firehouse, and maybe a proton pack? And one of the others might be Stay Puft? It stuns me to realize that those pieces of pasta are older than many of you. (7/8)

So there you have it. Heinz Real Ghostbusters Pasta, from 1992. I hope you’ve enjoyed this exploration. Happy Halloween, and please be safer than I was today. (8/8)