The Ghostbusters II Promotion at Hardees

Let’s rewind the tape to 1989. I was knee-deep in Ghostbusters fever, and fast food promotions were hitting their golden age. Looking back now, I realize they were a much bigger player in the cross-promotion game than I gave them credit for. Much like the Days of Thunder tie-in that came a little later, the Ghostbusters II promotion was a full-blown event. It wasn’t just a toy or a themed wrapper, it was a whole experience.

There were collectible cups with Slimer and the guys printed in bold neon colors, a themed lunch box that felt like treasure, and of course, the Ghost Blasters, which to me were the crown jewel of the whole thing. They even had special kid’s meal containers shaped like the Ecto-1, and a dessert that still lives in my memory: the Slimer Sundae.

But let me start with the Ghost Blaster. That thing was pure magic to me. It was just a simple plastic noise maker with two buttons at the base, each triggering a different sound. I couldn’t tell you exactly what those sounds were…some kind of sci-fi zap or ghostly screech…but I do remember how much my parents hated it. Which, of course, made me love it even more.

There’s a delicate art to annoying your parents just enough to be entertained, but not so much that they confiscate your toy. I danced that line like a pro. I’d sneak up behind my dad while he was working on something and hit the button, then run off giggling before he could react. My mom would roll her eyes every time she heard it from the other room. But somehow, I managed to keep it in my possession longer than most of my other noise-making gadgets. That Ghost Blaster was my badge of honor.

Now, the food containers…those were something special. I’ve always had a soft spot for shaped packaging, and the Ecto-1 box was a masterpiece. It wasn’t just a box; it was a toy in its own right. You could decorate it with the sticker sheet that came tucked inside the meal, and once you were done eating, it became a poor man’s version of the real thing. I’d zoom it across the kitchen floor, pretending to chase ghosts under the table and behind the fridge.

And tucked inside that box was another treasure: a mini Real Ghostbusters toy catalog. That little booklet was pure wish fulfillment. I’d flip through it again and again, circling the toys I wanted and rehearsing my pitch to Mom and Dad. “Look, it’s educational! Teaches hand-eye coordination!” I never got most of what was in that catalog, but dreaming about it was half the fun.

Then there was the Slimer Sundae. I only got it once, and even that was a negotiation. You had to buy a dessert (or a cinnamon raisin biscuit, which I never understood as a kid) to qualify for the Ghost Blaster. So I pleaded my case, and my mom finally relented. I don’t remember the exact taste, but I’ve read online that it was bubble gum flavored, but I remember the thrill of holding that gooey, neon-green sundae in my hands. It felt like I was eating something straight out of the movie.

That whole promotion was more than just a marketing gimmick. It was a moment that perfectly blended pop culture, childhood imagination, and fast food magic. It turned a regular trip to the drive-thru into an adventure. And all these years later I can still hear the faint echo of that Ghost Blaster and see the glow of Slimer smiling up at me from the side of a sundae cup.