By J.L. Shioshita
Picture this: it’s summer, and it’s a hot one. There’s been a drought. There has not been nearly enough rain this year; at least, that’s what all the old people are saying. You’re at a friend’s house because they have a pool. It’s the only remedy for this type of heat. You swam most of the day but are now reclining on some stiff patio furniture. The plastic digs into your back, but you don’t mind. The sun is bright, beating down on you aggressively. You’re too tired, chlorinated, and toasty to move.
You watch everyone play in the water, splish-splashing like baby otters at the zoo. Their laughter and squeals frolicking through the air. Your friend saunters over in wet bathing trunks and hands you an ice-cold can of pop. You thank them and crack it open. The can is nice and frigid in your hand. You take a long swig and let out a contented sigh. This is the life.
A little girl runs over to you. She’s someone’s daughter, but you can’t remember whose. She’s decked out in yellow water wings and a pair of goggles too big for her face. She offers you some candy. You take it from her small, damp hand. It’s popping candy. You haven’t eaten any since you were a child. You smile at the little girl and she runs off.
You open the bag of candy and pour all the contents into your mouth. It immediately begins to explode across your tongue. The taste is sweet and delicious. You grab your can of pop and take another swig. You swallow the sugary bubbling mixture down and recline further back in your chair.
But then your stomach begins to hurt. You feel bloated, painfully so. Every movement is agony. The cramps come in waves that rack your body, causing you to gasp. You try to get up but it makes the building pressure worse, so you sit back down and wait for the pain to pass. It doesn’t. It intensifies.
Someone has noticed your dilemma. Friends rush over in concern. You grab your stomach in agony. You can’t answer when they inquire if you’re okay. The pain is too intense to speak.
Suddenly, there’s a loud, wet, popping sound. You watch as one of your friends flies through the air like a beautiful red bird, landing in the pool with a splash. The water begins turning red. Everyone is screaming. They’re all red too. The crimson chroma rains down around you. The drought is over, you think. The old people will stop talking about it now.
Your stomach feels so much better, and you sigh in relief. You rest your hands on your belly, but your belly isn’t there. Your hands fall into a large, wet hole. At least it doesn’t hurt anymore. The screams are finally fading. A calm settles in. You close your eyes and enjoy the sun on your face. What a great day.
I specifically remember trying this out, unsure if I would live to see the other side. Later in life (because, spoiler, I did survive), I was surprised to discover the legend was much older than I imagined, going back to 1979.
The story goes that if you eat Poprocks (or any popping candy) with Pepsi (though Coke will work just as well), the resulting highly carbonated mixture will boil your guts and cause your stomach to explode. End of story.
It’s a simple and grisly myth (sometimes the best ones are) and very easy to prove or disprove if you have the guts to try it out. But this tiny kernel of a tale created a bonafide mini panic back in the day and continues to make the rounds, a testament to its staying power.
When it first began circulating in the late 70s, concerned parents were so alarmed their children might be in danger that a Seattle hotline run by the FDA had to be created to alleviate their fears. General Foods, which distributed the candy, had to run full-on damage control to prove to the public that there was no danger and that the candy did not pose a safety risk.
Adding to the story’s mystique, a spin-off rumor developed, claiming that actor John Gilchrist, who played Little Mickey in the Life cereal commercials, was a victim of this very thing. He had apparently eaten Poprocks with some soda pop and died when his stomach exploded. The rumor was so believable that John’s mother was reported to have received condolences for the death of her son.
Well, the truth is popping candy and soda pop will not cause your stomach to explode. I can attest to this personally. It may cause a big burp, but that’s about it. And John Gilchrist is very much still alive and kicking, not dead from a fatal carbonated overdose.
Part of the scare may have stemmed from consumers not fully understanding how the candy worked. The reaction in your mouth can be alarming if you’re not prepared for it, and the idea of putting these tiny exploding chunks of sugar into your gut sounds dangerous, especially if you add highly carbonated soda pop to the mix.
Due to its popularity and seeming ubiquitousness, the first episode of Mythbusters tackled this story, attesting to its staying power. The show’s results mirrored my own, along with those of hundreds, if not thousands, of kids who took the dare, drank the pop, ate the candy, then waited with bated breath to see if they would die or not. Ah, the follies of youth.
HWA Colorado 