You have my personal guarantee. By the end of this post, you will be hungry enough to eat a Peruvian giant yellow leg centipede.

Fools. I’d like to see you try.

Here’s the situation.

Kraft has unleashed enough holiday marshmallows to make it clear that they’re seeking penance for mortal sins. It’s even better than the stunt they pulled during Halloween. No matter how hard Dracula tries, he’ll never be as comfortable in a pile of spongy candy as Santa Claus. This is why Vlad rhymes with sad.

I dare say that it didn’t really feel like Christmastime until tonight, when I set an hour aside for a psychopathic holiday mallow photo shoot. As Bruce warned me to watch out and avoid crying, there I was, practically enveloped by four metric tons of fun-shaped marshmallows. It was glorious. Had I been drinking sherry from a fancy glass, someone seriously should’ve painted me.

I found three distinctly Christmassy types of marshmallows, and best of all, Kraft listed goofy recipes for each on the backs of the bags. Hey, if they could go through the trouble of thinking those recipes up, the least I could do was melt a little butter and get my hands dirty. Dirtier.

So, yes, in addition to showing you the marshmallows, I’ll also demonstrate what you can make with them. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve never devoted so much of my day to marshmallows before. I feel like I have a career in marshmallows. It feels fat.

Jet Puffed Snowman Mallows: They’re said to be “French vanilla,” but they taste like regular marshmallows to me. Since regular marshmallows are vanilla flavored, we may conclude that “French,” in of itself, tastes like absolutely nothing.

But forgiveness is divine, and easy to give when your marshmallows look like tiny squid mantles. The snowmen come in a creamy white color, not so much “yellow” as just something eggshelly enough to not be plain boring white. The important thing is, they don’t look like pissed-on snowmen. Nothing could kill Christmas faster.

Consulting the many recipes on the bag, I chose the one that involved the least amount of effort. Let someone else make those hot cocoa cupcakes. I’m going with Chocolate-Coated Snowman Mallows.

Here, we’re instructed to dip Snowman Mallows in a cup of melted dipping chocolate.

“Dipping chocolate” is such a pleasure to melt, by the way. When you buy it, it's a tub of giant chocolate chips. After a minute in the microwave, they merge into the most appetizing diarrhea since my cat spent a week eating nothing but flowers.

Smearing mallows with warm chocolate is, obviously, fantastic. (You could also let the things cool off in the fridge, for a crunchier treat that may very well be tasty enough to give you the good kind of aneurism.)

Plus, there’s that whole “French vanilla" thing. It’s probably meaningless, but it makes the marshmallows seem so much more sophisticated. Anytime you can mix gooey mallows with feelings of urbanity is, for lack of a more cosmopolitan term, funky awesome.

Gingerbread Mallows: Yeah, these will be the fan favorite. We all know it. People always lose it for things shaped like gingerbread men – even if those gingerbread men more closely resemble injured octopi. What’s with all the cephalopod tributes in these Kraft marshmallows? Is the company run by Mon Cals?

In smell and taste, they’re pretty gingerbreadish, only missing real gingerbread’s weird spiciness. The mallows have arms and legs, but no facial features. I think you can handle those. It’s why Lisa Frank invented scented markers.

One of the bag’s recipes dared me to pair marshmallows with pretzels, and because I am a proud man who never surrenders, here’s a bowl of Fireplace Munch Mix:

This includes: Gingerbread Mallows, pretzel sticks, popcorn, honey roasted peanuts and a dash of cinnamon. I can’t say I’m a fan, because in the eternal struggle between sweet and savory, I’ve shot more arrows on savory’s behalf than an archer on crystal.

In words you’d have to consider less: THIS NEEDS SALT.

At least it looks nice, even with all of that burnt popcorn. I nearly torched the apartment tonight, and all I did wrong was nuke the popcorn bag with the wrong side up. A mistake, yes, but if that’s all it takes to start a fire, Orville Redenbacher can stay the fuck dead.

Holiday Mallows: These have been around forever. I originally wrote about ‘em in 2003, and barely anything has changed. It’s nice to have a seasonal marshmallow that you can count on. Go for it, Kraft. Make that the Holiday Mallows' official ad slogan. I know you're reading. I keep getting hits from Dac.

You’ll probably prefer the Gingerbread Mallows, because things shaped like people are adorable. For me, Holiday Mallows will always be #1. They’re a tradition, and besides, they’re more colorful. They're practically glowing. In this respect, they are not unlike Taningia danae, which is, of course, a bioluminescent deep sea squid.

Looking at the bag's recipes, I skipped past the easy, boring ideas and went straight for the one that seemed the most extreme. Holiday Mallows deserved the effort. Prepare yourself for a neon feast of Holiday Crispy Squares!

They’re essentially Rice Krispies Treats, dyed green, with Holiday Mallows tacked on. I’m not sure if I used the right amount of food dye, as my snacks came out looking less “Christmas green” and more “Troll 2 prop food.” They still make me want three stomachs.

In the mood for that centipede, yet? If only they were cephalopods, I’d be ending on such a perfect note.

Since my perfect note is already blown, may as well remind you to keep up with MM's LEGO Star Wars Advent Calendar, on YouTube.