Frank the snowman bought a hair dryer. He had always thought about it, but now he finally had the nerve. As he walked down the dark alley, beads of perspiration froze on his brow.

“Frosty dies tonight,” he mumbled to himself as he took a drag from his corncob pipe.

It was time for that snow-jerk to pay for stealing all the glory, all the fame, and all the love. He walked slowly up the stairs to Frosty’s apartment, knocked on the door, and as it opened Frank realized his one mistake: no electrical outlet. Oh, the irony.