This is what I imagine it would be like. Just substitute the Pepsi with candy bar.
Surprisingly the article says no one got sick even though the bars looked like:
The remaining portions of edible nostalgia were dropped into a Ziplock bag and disposed of. The oil slick left behind by the Mark Price Bar was Windexed out of existence. All that remained was a dull stink, which hovered over the table on which the chocolate bars had been presented.
We did not throw up. Waves of nausea would continue to rise within our stomachs throughout the afternoon, but we steeled ourselves and focused on other things and shoveled Spicy Buffalo Wheat Thins into our mouths to cover the taste. It covered it like spicy buffalo sawdust strewn atop vomit, but it momentarily pushed away the stench. We made it home and ate dinner and went to bed and woke up the next morning feeling victorious. Like we had cheated death, and done science, and grown a little closer to our childhood idols. Or something. We should have listened to that guy who said not to eat the chocolate.