An ASMR guide for Marmite first timers. First, toast your pillowy soft bread. Push that.

Liberally spread that butter. Stroke that Marmite open. Dip that knife and spread that.

Don't overload and taste that. Marmite. Love it. Hate it. Get it on.

I don't know how many of them are infected, so you need to listen closely. This is life or death.

Mid afternoon is when they come. The epoxy white trucks trow on the neighborhood streets.

The familiar ice cream truck jingle, piping out from the roof mounted loudspeakers and beckoning the neighborhood kids.

If you hear the song, the one everyone knows, plug your ears until you get inside.

Once inside, shut your blinds. Press yourself small in the darkest corner of your house.

And wait until the storm passes. And whatever you do, don't let your children near the truck.

I don't know how it started, or if it'll end. I don't think it will.

But all that matters is that you follow the rules.

There's an incomplete list. I don't know everything, and I don't want to.

But I know enough to make a survival guide that might spare others the ruin that's torn my family to shreds.

So, if you want to stay alive, pay attention.

One, plug your ears if you hear the jingle. Make sure your kids do too.

If they can hear it, the truck will draw them like a magnet.

If that happens, it's already too late.

Two, if your child steps up to the truck, turn and run.

They're as good as gone. There's no use trying to save them.

It's a cowardly thing, but save yourself.

Three, the previous rule holds more importance if you have other family.

If you're gone too, they'll come looking, and the truck will be waiting.

...