Pete's Expert Summary
My Human has brought another one of these "Funko" effigies into my domain. This one is a small, rigid plastic figure of a human dressed as a bat, complete with a comically oversized head and lifeless, black eyes. It’s apparently meant to be "collected" and "displayed," which is human-speak for "placed on a shelf to be ignored until it’s time to dust." From my superior vantage point, its only redeeming quality is its size—perfect for a swift, satisfying swat onto the floor. It offers no tactile pleasure, no enticing scent, and no dynamic movement. It's a glorified paperweight, a potential projectile, and ultimately, a tragic waste of a perfectly good spot on the shelf that could have been used for napping.
Key Features
- IDEAL COLLECTIBLE SIZE - At approximately 3.75 inches (9.5 cm) tall, this vinyl mini figurine complements other collectable merchandise and fits perfectly in your display case or on your desk
- PREMIUM VINYL MATERIAL - Made from durable vinyl, this collectible is built to last and withstand daily wear, ensuring long-lasting enjoyment for fans and collectors alike
- GIFT IDEA FOR DC COMICS FANS - Ideal for holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and as a present this figurine is a must-have addition to any DC Comics merchandise collection
- EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION - Add this unique Batman vinyl display piece to your growing assortment of Funko Pop figures, and seek out other rare and exclusive collectible items for a complete set
- LEADING POP CULTURE BRAND - Trust in the expertise of Funko, the premier creator of pop culture merchandise that includes vinyl figures, action toys, plush, apparel, board games, and more
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box it arrived in was a lie. The crinkle of the cardboard and the whisper of the plastic insert promised something of substance, perhaps a new variety of treat or a toy with feathers. Instead, the Human produced this... this totem. A tiny, black golem with a severe jawline and ears far too pointy for any respectable creature. They called it "Batman" and placed it on the corner of the desk, a silent, frowning sentinel guarding the charging cables. For a full hour, I observed it from the safety of my armchair. It did nothing. It did not chirp, it did not wiggle, it did not smell of catnip or prey. It simply stood there, its black, vacant eyes staring into a middle distance I could not perceive. The Human seemed pleased, occasionally glancing at it with an expression of nostalgia. I concluded this was not a toy, but a new household deity, a small, dark idol they had acquired to worship. Clearly, my own divine presence was no longer sufficient. The audacity. My approach was slow and deliberate. I leaped silently onto the desk, my paws making no sound on the wood finish. I circled the black statue, sniffing its base. It smelled of a factory in a land I have no desire to visit. I looked at its clenched fists, its grim expression. This was not a passive god. This was a warrior god. A challenge. The Human had brought a rival into my kingdom to test my resolve. I would not disappoint. I sat before the little bat-man, meeting its hollow gaze. I did not bat at it. That would be too simple, too crude for an opponent of such supposed stature. Instead, I began to purr. Not my soft, contented rumble, but my other purr—the deep, resonant thrum that vibrates the very air, the one I use to assert dominance over errant dust bunnies and the gurgling radiator. I closed my eyes, focusing all my energy, my very essence, into that sound, weaving a sonic tapestry of absolute ownership around the desk. The statue, of course, remained unmoved. Pathetic. After a full minute of this display, I opened my eyes, gave the figurine one last look of utter disdain, and proceeded to knock the Human's pen off the desk instead. One must choose one's battles, and this plastic pretender wasn't even worth the effort. It could have its grim, silent vigil; I had a nap to attend to.
