The Weekly Screed (#793)

He’s ba-a-a-ack!
by David Benjamin

MADISON, Wis. — Sirens screaming, lights throbbing, Car 54 jumped the curb, dodged several trees, skidded violently and spun in a circle before lurching to a sudden stop in a snowbank just shy of the playground. By several inches, it missed flattening a little boy in a purple snowsuit.

Officer Muldoon burst from the cruiser, slipped on a patch of ice and performed a pratfall. Officer Toody exited more cautiously, found his footing and roared, “All right, people! What’s goin’ on here?”

A gigantic white figure separated himself from the throng in the park and loomed above Toody.

“Everything is fine here, Officer,” he said. “Isn’t that right, kids?”

The two policemen saw, arrayed behind the huge white thing, dozens of children, their faces glowing with joy. On the fringes of this happy bunch, however, a ring of grownups looked angry and riot-prone.

“Oh no!” shouted one. “Nothing’s fine about this, you pedophile son of a bitch!”

“Mrs. Abernathy,” the great white thing chided cheerfully, “language! Their are children present.”

Mrs. Abernathy responded with an oath unfit for prime-time family viewing.

Officer Muldoon was on his feet. “All right, everybody, settle down.” He looked into the eerie black eyes of the ivory apparition. “Who are you? What’s your name? What the hell are ya, anyhow?”

“I said I’d be back again someday,” was the reply. “And voila! Here I am.”

“Get away from my daughter, you filthy sicko!” came a voice from the crowd.

An angry rumble rose from the cluster of adults, interrupted by a childish voice that shouted, “We love you, Frosty!”

And the children began to cheer, dancing in circles around the immense creature, who seemed to be wearing a puffy outer covering of pure white material. It reached to the ground in three orblike sections. His feet were not visible.

“Weirdest damn thing I ever saw,” Toody muttered to Muldoon. “What is he, some kind of team mascot?”

Overhearing him, the thing called “Frosty” said, “Oh no. You see, I’m a — ”

“He’s a pervert!” came anther voice from the crowd. “What’s he doing in the park, with our little babies?”

“He’s our friend!” cried a child. Another cheer from the kids.

Toody poked Frosty. He said, “This outfit. What’s it made of? Gore-Tex? Goose down? Styrofoam?”

“It’s snow.”

“It’s no what?” asked Muldoon.

“It’s snow,” repeated Frosty.

“What?”

Frosty smiled mischievously. He said, “No, he’s on second.”

“Who’s on second?”

“He’s on first.”

“First what?” asked Toody.

“Second base!” roared all the kids.

Muldoon pulled his gun. “All, right, I’m serious here.” He pointed the gun at Frosty. “Now, who the hell are you, fella?”

“I’m Frosty. The Snowman.”

“Snow? I know what ‘snow’ means!” came the anguished voice of Mrs. Abernathy. “He’s selling cocaine! Heroin! To my little Abraham!”

“Mom,” yelled Abraham, “don’t be an idiot.”

“Don’t you backtalk me, you little — ”

“Everybody! Quiet!” shouted Toody.

“It’s all in the song, Officer,” said Frosty to Muldoon.

“Song? What song?”

“You know.” Frosty sang a few verses, about being a “jolly happy soul,” his corncob pipe (he flashed the pipe), his “button nose,”“two eyes made out of coal.” Etcetera.

“He’s got dead eyes!” cried a mother. “Like a shark!”

“Take the pipe!” shouted another. “This is a smoke-free park!”

“Snowmen don’t smoke,” replied one canny kid. “Their faces would melt.”

Muldoon broke in.

“You say you’re Frosty? The Snowman? In that stupid song?”

Frosty took offense. “Stupid? Au contraire, Officer. It’s accurate. It’s detailed. It’s good journalism. Notice the old silk hat? Here, watch me dance around.”

As Frosty did just that, a parent pushed forward. “What’s he doing with that broomstick, huh?” he demanded. ‘Do you know what pedophiles do with long, rigid, cylindrical objects?”

Frosty intervened, “The broom’s part of the outfit, dad. Standard snowman issue. Straight out of the manual,” he said. “Just like all this laughing, playing and dancing around. It’s what snowmen do.”

“No, they don’t!” shouted Mrs. Abernathy. “They never move. They just stand there with carrots in their face. And then they melt, thank God. You’re no snowman. You’re… you’re… well, I don’t know what you are. But I want you thrown in jail.”

“But I’d melt in jail.”

“Make America cold again!” cried the canny kid. The others cheered.

“Look, big guy,” said Toody. “These parents are worried. You wanna tell us what you’re doing in the park with all these little children? It ain’t normal. man.”

“I agree,” said Frosty. “Normally, snowmen don’t get around much. But me? I can. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the hat. But the kids love it. They’d follow me anywhere.”

The kids roared in affirmation.

Mrs. Abernathy cried. “You won’t take my little Abie, you monster!”

“Lock her up!” cried the kids.

“Shoot him!” cried the parents.

“What happens,” Muldoon asked Toody, “if you shoot a snowman?”

Frosty decided not to find out the answer. “Well,” he said, “I think my work is done here. Sorry, kids. The heat’s on!”

With that, Frosty doffed his hat and popped his great white head right off his body. He tossed it to Abie Abernathy. Frosty’s bodiless head winked at the kids and they burst into joyous laughter.

“Now what?” said Officer Muldoon as Frosty sprouted legs and took off, with remarkable speed and agility, toward the streets of town.

“Catch me if you can!” said Frosty’s head.

“Stop!” shouted Toody, not sure whether to address Frosty’s head or body.

“Abie! My man!” cried Frosty. “Hit me!”

Little Abie reared back. He threw Frosty’s head, in a long, arcing spiral. Frosty caught it neatly, jammed it back on his neckless torso and galloped to the top of a hill, trailing several children. He paused there. “I’ll be back again someday!” he exclaimed in a clear and jolly tone. “Meanwhile, for God’s sake, folks, try to lighten up!”

Muldoon and Toody were tempted to slog after Frosty in hot pursuit, but a radio call came in. Muldoon dove into Car 54 and stuck his head out a moment later.

“We gotta get to the mall!” he said, panic-stricken. “There’s a fat, hairy geezer in a red suit luring little girls onto his lap — with candy canes and promises!”

And away the the cops flew like the down of a thistle.