It was a cold, silent night in Crystal Lake. Snowflakes gently fell on the infamous campgrounds, blanketing the terror-soaked cabins in a layer of pure, untouched white. Jason Voorhees, the hulking, machete-wielding legend of horror, stood at the edge of the frozen lake, quietly sharpening his blade. It was his ritual—after all, even horror icons need to prep for their next spree.

But tonight, something was… off.

Out of nowhere, the silence was shattered by a cheerful voice.

“Happy Birthday!”

Jason turned sharply, his hockey mask reflecting the moonlight, and there, standing in the middle of the frozen lake, was a snowman. No, not just any snowman—Frosty the Snowman. The carrot-nosed, pipe-wielding, top-hat-wearing embodiment of holiday cheer.

Jason raised his machete in confusion. Was this some kind of joke? Had Freddy Krueger slipped into his dreams again?

Frosty, unbothered by Jason’s intimidating presence, tipped his hat. “You look like you could use some holiday spirit!”

Jason tilted his head. Spirit? He wasn’t much for spirit—unless it involved scaring the spirit out of camp counselors.

Before Jason could react, Frosty waved his stick arms and declared, “Let’s do something fun! You’ve been out here sulking for decades. It’s time to chill—literally!”

Within minutes, Frosty had roped Jason into a snowball fight. Jason’s machete turned out to be surprisingly useful for carving perfect snowballs, and he had a frighteningly accurate aim. Frosty retaliated with icy precision, his laughter echoing through the trees.

“Not bad, big guy!” Frosty chuckled, dodging a particularly aggressive snowball. “You’re a natural at this. Ever think about switching careers? We could make a great team—‘Slasher and Snowman!’”

Jason paused. The idea of a partnership was new. He hadn’t really collaborated since that whole Freddy vs. Jason debacle.

As the night wore on, the two unlikely companions built a snow fort that would put any gingerbread house to shame. Frosty even convinced Jason to trade his machete for a candy cane (briefly) to pose for a holiday card.

By dawn, Frosty turned to Jason and said, “Listen, Jason, I know you’ve got your… thing. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to scare everyone. Spread a little cheer this season, eh?”

Jason didn’t reply—he never did—but as Frosty waved goodbye and melted away with the sunrise, Jason stood silently, holding the candy cane.

The next time a group of teenagers stumbled into Crystal Lake, they found a snowman standing tall by the lake, complete with a hockey mask for a face and a machete planted in the snow beside it. And as they nervously approached, Jason’s silhouette loomed in the shadows.

For the first time in years, instead of screams, Crystal Lake rang with the sound of confused laughter.

Maybe Frosty was onto something after all.