Frosty placed his safety into the hands of the Federal Witness Protection Program after testifying about the illicit traffic in carrots, coal, top hats, scarves, and twigs among elementary school students. Unfortunately, some moron in the program changed Frosty's name to Snowman, The, and attempted to relocate him to Las Vegas. Bad decision. Before he had a chance to melt into the crowd at the Bellagio, Frosty blew his own cover by sucumbing to his gambling addiction and spending every evening at the baccarat table. The pit boss gave him up. One night soon thereafter, while Frosty was out for an evening walk, he was approached by a sinister figure in a trenchcoat and fedora. Frosty froze, and the chill of cold, raw fear filled every pore. The stranger pulled a propane torch from under his coat, lit it with the glowing end of his Virginia Slim, flicked the cigarette aside, adjusted the flame, and walked slowly towards Frosty ....

A less tragic photo ...