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Messianic Snowman Promises to "Return Again Some Day"

Kanada Kev

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Messianic Snowman Promises to "Return Again Some Day"


WINTERTOWN, OHIO- The winds of change have swept through this sleepy hamlet, and now it seems that the place will never be the same again thanks to the appearance and subsequent death of a mysterious folk hero known only as Frosty. Even though his time here was very brief, he created quite an impression on those who knew him and left a throng of youthful followers in his path, eagerly awaiting his return.

No one is quite sure of his origins. His conception, from what we can gather, was immaculate since records indicate that he did not have a mother or father in the traditional sense. Witnesses say this Frosty person simply "came to life one day," but local sheriff Poncho Pilate dismisses such talk as utter nonsense.

Legend has it that Frosty's powers, and even his life itself, emanated from the humblest of objects, an old silk stovepipe hat. Now that he is gone, the hat remains behind as the only surviving relic, currently kept under guard at an area shrine devoted to his memory.

"The thing I remember most about him was how positive he was all the time," said Karen Jones, Frosty's one-time travel companion and head disciple. "Every time we put the hat on his head, he would shout 'happy birthday!' That was his way of telling us to live every day as though it were the first or last day of your life. That's a powerful message."

Just as suddenly as he appeared, however, Frosty's time on earth was cut short. As the story goes, Frosty and Karen were on the road to paradise when it became clear that she was catching cold. At great personal risk of melting, the genial snowman offered to stop in a nearby greenhouse to warm her up.

Meanwhile, unsuccessful magician Prof. Henry Hinkle schemed to steal back the holy hat and trapped the pair inside. In a matter of moments, this beloved teacher, prophet, and friend lay in a puddle on the floor.

In the end, it happened as it had been written: Frosty forfeited his own life to save Karen and so many like her.

Father Christmas later appeared on the scene and managed to revive him for a short time with something called The Christmas Spirit, but soon he had to head "home" to the white lights up North. With his final words he asked his followers not to cry in mourning, promising to return again one day.

Some children scan the snowy horizon for his happy face every winter morning while others argue that he won't be back for years and years. Karen, however, reminds followers to be prepared for Frosty at all times for they know not the day nor the hour.

Hocus Pocus, the rabbit who paved the way for Frosty early in his ministry, remains furious at the vaguely Hebraic magician. "I know it's not polite to mention directly," he said in a recent BBC interview, "but I've got to come out and say it: The Jews killed Frosty."

It is this combination of anger and anticipation that helps fuel the fervor over the legendary ice golem, a phenomenon that has caused problems for non-believers in the area. A great example of this came earlier this week. After city officials removed a Frosty monument from the school's playground, children of the town erupted in protest.

Even after repeated efforts to break up the crowd including tear gas, water cannons, rubber bullets, and live ammunition, the children continued to parade around singing the only hymn they knew.

It seemed that the more the city attempted to suppress the Frostians, the more they flourished. Control of the city was slipping from their hands.

In an effort to resolve the situation, local authorities organized a field trip to the Wintertown Zoo on Wednesday so that the children might get a rare behind-the-scenes tour of the facility and have a chance to be fed to the lions.

No need to worry, though, administrators made sure to have signed permission slips and liability waivers on file.

Not only did the gladiatorial deaths help subdue the juvenile uprising in the town, but it also stood a good chance of rooting out the snowy menace from his hiding place.

So far, however, the hyperborean hellion has yet to show himself. Sheriff Pilate says reports of leap-frogging activity downtown are greatly exaggerated and nothing to be concerned about.


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