An Experience Hopefully Soon Forgotten

Recently I experienced a taste I hopefully can drown away with the magic of trying really hard to forget about it. If that doesn't work, I'm switching to bleach. This is a story of love, hatred, violence and horribly out of date cheap noodles that cook in 3 minutes. Let's get straight into my first post about an awful thing, right here on my awful blog. Just sit back, read up and listen to a nice soft song. I suggest Some Other Time by Bill Evans.
On my most recent excursion to the back of the cabinet next to the stove, I found something very interesting. At the time I was looking around to find something quick and easy I could make to eat and oh boy did I find it. At the far back of the cupboard, past the maze of bloody thorns, the mountains of king Hrothgar, and the ferocious demon hoard of the dark realm, I found a package of Ramen noodle soup. It was laying against the dark bricks that make up the walls of the deepest caverns in the back of the cupboard. Carefully watching my step as I maneuvered over the lava pits surrounding the package of Ramen noodle soup, with one fell swoop, I quickly snatched it up into my hand and pulled it out to the surface world.
Upon pulling the package out from the abyss, I saw it's blistering pink color. A color that could only mean one thing when it came to cheap noodles. Shrimp flavor. That and the fact it said "Shrimp Flavor" on the package and  included an image of a shrimp, which humorously stated "suggested serving"  (Yeah, like people who buy this also make shrimp, peas and celery to go along with it). As I glanced at the package, I noticed several things. The first thing that caught my eye was the company name itself, Maruchan. It was then I realized I didn't know how to pronounce the name of the company that made these rubberized noodles. I thought  to myself "Perhaps it's pronounced 'ma-ru-chan', perhaps it's pronounced 'ma-ru-schuan', or maybe it's a word that can't be pronounced by human tongues and can only be described using complex algebraic equations." I never did find out which of these answers were correct. However, despite the strange lingering thought of mispronunciation, I rubbed my eyes on the rest of the package. After a fair amount of quite painful eyeball rubbing, I noticed the dark lining this packaging contained. An omen that has plagued many cupboard foods through the millennium. These noodles had expired eight years ago.
This new knowledge of the expiration date both horrified me and intrigued me. The idea of actually eating these noodles were tempting. The hunger was getting to me and this was the only food I had been able to find. I had nowhere else to turn. I thought "surely noodles made from mostly acrylic don't expire too fast, perhaps they're still completely edible." I wasn't sure if I wanted to take the risk. I sat down on the couch in the living room to weigh my options. Eat the noodles or walk to the store and buy a pizza. One of the hardest decisions of my life, and the hunger was making me sway in favor of the noodles. Eventually I decided I would contact the Eldritch spirits. I went to the nearest summoning circle and chanted the rites of summoning. The creature that appeared glared at me with anger, then glanced at the noodles. It's expression soon faded to pity, and it was then it realized what I had summoned them for. The abomination told me that if I were to pick the noodles, it would be a difficult trek for the taste buds. This was all the creature could muster up before vanishing back to the nether realm. I thought to myself if I wanted to go through with this. Yes, yes I did. I quickly went to get a pot. Upon retrieving a pot, I filled it with about 1/4 of the pot's volume with water, lit the stove top's mighty burners and set the pot down to allow the boiling to begin.
Once the water began boiling, I went to open the package. Slowly tearing away at it's pink packaging, I feared for what was to come. Upon opening the package, the smell of sulfur flooded the room. It was at this moment that I realized this was going to be far more unpleasant than initially suspected. The noodles themselves were far more spongy than they usually would be in brick form, and slightly damp. I ignored these discrepancies and went back the matter at hand. Cooking old cheap noodles. I tossed the noodles into the boiling water and just as I did, the smell of sulfur grew to a powerful odor, flooding my nostrils and filling my heart with fear. Despite this malodorous conundrum, I continued cooking the noodles.
Once the noodles were fully cooked, I took the soup and poured it generously into a bowl. The smell had not subsided, and in fact grew far worse upon being cooked. I stared contently at the abomination I had just created. Was I really hungry enough to eat such a rancid, unappetizing and frankly quite crap meal? I was about to find out.
I took my utensil, dipped into the bowl, picked up a noodle and stuffed it into my gob. This was immediately regretted. The taste was putrid. I have had and enjoyed shrimp in the past, but this was nothing like any shrimp I or any other human has ever had. I spit it out with the force of a high caliber rifle. The noodle splatted against the broth of the soup with great force. I look towards the soup and I knew exactly what I had to do.
On that day I chose hunger over awfulness. I went for the rest of the day slightly hungry and with a bad taste in my mouth. I decided to not eat any more 8 year old noodles.
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