Mystery Can: Jay's Journal
DAY ONE
I have no idea what I just opened. Unsalty tomato soup? Watery chili stew perhaps? It’s very red and very tomato-y, and it tastes like someone grew oregano in my mouth. It seems as though I got very lucky, because this “soup” goes well with my broccoli omelet and hash browns. My plate couldn’t be more attractive if it were made of rainbows and/or mirrors.
DAY TWO
I’ve yet to open my mystery can of the day, but I’m downright scared because I assume that Jason can be as malicious as I am. And frankly, I’m thinking yesterday’s tomato surprise was probably my reward for the week. I made a fake burger with all the trimmings, and I’ve got my fingers crossed, which I don’t recommend when using a can opener.
Damn it! I think this is the same thing I ate yesterday. That watery tomato stock hullabaloo. Crap. It totally is. Last night was tolerable, but this time, each swallow is giving my throat goosebumps.
DAY THREE
Reason #46 why Jason is not my friend: I left work hungry and decided to pick up some take-out. Sushi sounds good, I thought. How can I go wrong with sushi? Well, guess what? Opening up a can of thick sauerkraut goes wrong with sushi. It’s absolutely foul and my appetite is totally squashed. The saurkraut looks and smells like the wet end of a mop. Whew, and it tastes like sweaty paper towels. How did I get myself into this? And how can I somehow report Jason to the government?
Honestly, I didn’t eat the minimum 50%, because it would have certainly come out the same way it went in. I consumed about 40% of the can’s contents, which was plenty scarring, and p.s., I no longer fear death.
DAY FOUR
My neighbor, Jenn, asked about all of the unlabeled cans on my kitchen counter. I explained the game, and she said, “Oh, a gold can. That means it’s fruit. You should eat the gold* can next.” I felt like hot stuff knowing a little insider information, right? I made a sandwich and french fries, thinking they’d go well with some syrupy canned fruit. I opened the can. And it didn’t smell sweet. And it was awfully brown. It was damn yams. Congratulations, Jay’s stomach; hope you like starch. I don’t even know how to eat yams. Do I eat them cold or mash them or what?
* NOTE: The Plug does not endorse the act of eating precious metals.
DAY FIVE
I have a Saturday ritual where I pick up salmon and salad for dinner. It’s consistently my best meal of the week, and basically, I didn’t want Jason mucking that up. So I did something potentially stupid. I decided to open/eat/soil my next can during breakfast. I made the same thing I eat every morning, an apple and a bagel. I unsealed the tin can. Inside was garbanzo beans (a/k/a chick peas, a/k/a love fiber, a/k/a smush bullets). I jumped up and down, because I really like garbanzo beans. Well that’s a lie. I didn’t actually jump and down. And also, my relationship with garbanzo beans is merely platonic. But I wondered, Am I allowed to make some hummus? Ain’t no rule that says you can’t make some hummus. Screw it. I’m making some hummus. In short: what a rich and satisfying breakfast. Thanks, Jason! I totally screwed you over with three days of beets.
DAY SIX
And the mystery can winner of the 2003 Still Wearing Pajamas On Sunday At 4:00 P.M. So I’m Making Some Frozen Pizza is… cream of asparagus soup (I think). Not bad, Royal. Not bad. I’m a little disturbed that I was instructed to add a can of water and the soup contents aren't mixing at all.
DAY SEVEN
Last day of the world’s greatest unlabeled can experiment. In many ways, I will miss the mystery. And in more ways, I’ll be thankful that after tonight I can eat dinner with a smile on my face. So here’s to hoping I go out with a bang. C’mon, Jason. Pickled eggs, dog food, hairspray… It doesn’t matter. Let her rip. I prepared moros as my last supper. It’s Cuban beans and rice with some tomato and red onions. I make it well, thank you. I am very pleased because my mystery can, just revealed, was refried beans. I love it. I shall shape it into a volcano with cheddar cheese lava. It’s like the band Starship sang, “If the world ran out of lovers, we’d still have each other. Nothing’s gonna stop us. Nothing’s gonna stop us nooowwwww. Nooooooo-no-no-no.” The delicious end.
