If Frosty Were My Friend...

If Frosty were my friend, my entire life would fall apart.

I'd come home from work, drop my briefcase, absently pat my kid whose name I've forgotten, give a quick, emotionless, perfunctary kiss to the wife, whatever the hell her name is and inform them I'll be out back conversing with our TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, the snowman that TALKS.

My end of the conversation would probably consist of no more than 'What else?' You know, so I can listen to the TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, the snowman THAT TALKS.

Then probably soon afterward, I'd have no briefcase to drop, no kid to absently pat on the head, and no wife to unemotionally kiss because they'd all left me. And they'd probably be gone for awhile before I noticed, made aware of their absence by a check for severance pay and papers suing me for divorce for speaking with a TALKING SNOWMAN. You know, a snowman THAT CAN TALK.

Frosty'd probably ask me about it then but I'd still just say, 'What else?'

Then when spring came and the weather warmed, I'd probably buy Frosty a cold room, much better than a meat locker, like a house, depleting my remaining resources.

Then probably I'd make a mistake and set the temperature too low even for Frosty and he'd catch a cold.

I'd probably then buy him some grape flavored cough syrup and as I poured it into his mouth, I’d watch as it spread through his entire body making him look like a giant grape Italian Ice.

And then I'd probably eat him, every last snowflake, and throw the magic hat in the trash.

Yep, that's what I'd probably do...

...if Frosty were my friend.