A flurry of snow flutters across the screen. A tint of saturated blue fades in and even whiter snowflakes fall gently but as shakily as animation cel technology of the 1960s will allow. Jingle bells ring quietly in the distance as if they are having some sort of team huddle on the other side of the court, whispering to each other strategies of how to get around the Los Angeles Lakers. As the sleigh bells jingle about their plays, the snow gradually slows to a stop, and the sky becomes as blank as a canvas. The vision of the sky slowly ascends as light flutey music plays gently on the breeze of a cold winter's day. Snow-covered hills dotted by frozen pine trees pan out for miles underneath the big blue atmospheric effect of the sun's rays getting refracted into color.
Across this barren yet festive holiday desert, a lone figure approaches. Its manner of walking is more akin to slithering, as its body is made of snow just like its surroundings. Its gait is jolly yet reserved as one may observe in an old-timer with a twinkle in their eye made of coal. Yes, it's a snowman, with a vest and a hat and an umbrella by his side. He's an old one, with a goatee and mustache that would impress any snow-juvenile under the age of five consecutive winters. He's humming along his way to who knows where when suddenly he stops and turns to face someone invisible.
"Well, hello there! Didn't expect any company, especially during this time of year." He tips his hat. "The name's Sam. I'm a snowman, as you can see. Nice weather out here in the North Pole, eh?" He stops and looks at his silver watch. "Never mind that, looks like I'm on a tight schedule today." He begins to mutter to himself as he snow-slides away. "My, I wouldn't have ever wanted to go outside again if that boy Conan hadn't caught the rampant sea lion killing off those snow-ladies."
As if someone responded asking him who exactly this Conan was, he turns around again. "What? Never heard of the detective Edogawa Conan? My word, you need to get around the anime business a lot more!" He pauses. "Ah, sorry, not everyone has time to watch anime especially in this day and age. We snow-folks happen to not have a lot to do up here, so we ended up catching on with some pop culture."
"Well," he says, completely forgetting about any previous engagements, "I think I ought to tell you the story behind this detective. It's a story about a little boy who wasn't really little, a girl who loved him, a man who needed a break in life, and some good old Christmas magic. It all started when-" Suddenly, he lets out a scream, and falls to the ground, back up, a knife sticking out of it. The camera falls to the side and briefly fizzes out in static as a penguin rushes over to the old snowman's side. The penguin turns toward the fourth wall and yells, "Call 911! He's out!" As sirens begin to play in the distance, a sound of waddling feet can be heard, and the camera's gruesome recording is cut short.
CREDITS ROLL
