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Few things taste worse than a mouthful of orange juice right after brushing your teeth. That tangy vitamin C washing over your spearmint-coated tongue is ?? ?? ??enough to make your butt clench — and basically ruin the next 15 minutes of your morning.

But what if I told you there was a way to enjoy your morning beverage right after brushing? Enter Tropicana Toothpaste, which will clean your mouth without making orange juice taste like shit.

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When I saw the announcement of the toothpaste, I was extremely skeptical. Of course it was going to ruin my orange juice, I thought. Why should I expect any different when every other brand has let me down? I'd been hurt far too many times by the likes of Colgate, Crest, and even that damn Tom of Maine. I have toothpaste trust issues, OK?

But part of me still had the urge to find out if Tropicana could fulfill such a promise. Maybe it would be different this time. So, I set out to see if Tropicana Toothpaste could be the one.

While Tropicana Toothpaste is an Instagram-sweepstakes-based, limited-edition product that won't be sold to the public (at least, not yet), the brand was kind enough to send me a sample to try out. I opened the test package and was greeted with the striking tube of paste, along with a small wooden toothbrush with orange bristles. Cute, but I wouldn't be won over that easily.

I took my gallon of orange juice (which Tropicana also sent over) and quickly brought my brushing supplies to my bathroom sink. I wanted to get this over with. I ran the toothbrush under the faucet and squeezed a sliver of the pearlescent paste onto its bristles. I started brushing. I was expecting a gross flavor, but I was pleasantly surprised by its fluoride-y, dentist-office-like taste. Now that my mouth was clean and full of toothpaste remnants, it was time for the moment of truth. I grabbed a glass and served myself a hefty pour of OJ. I prayed to every deity I could think of and brought the cup to my lips. Bottoms up.

As the orange drink rushed past my teeth and down my gullet, I tasted a familiar flavor: It was just orange juice, untainted by my toothbrushing session mere moments before. I took another swig. Then another. Still, just sweet, sweet orange juice sans any bitter taste caused by mint. I couldn't believe it, but Tropicana's claim was the real deal. Turns out toothpaste and orange juice don't have to be a match made in hell.

Since my first test, I've tried Tropicana Toothpaste once more to make sure it wasn't a fluke. It wasn't. Tropicana has truly cracked the code and given us one of the greatest scientific achievements to date. What a gift. Jokes aside, though, I think Tropicana could easily sell this toothpaste to the public, even as a one-off. I'm positive there are other strange minds out there who would like to try it.

It probably won't be my day-to-day toothpaste going forward, but I'll definitely show it off to guests next time I have company over as a fun party trick. They'll have to bring their own toothbrush, though.