Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what they seem to think is a "toy," but my superior feline senses tell me otherwise. This is a small, static effigy, a plastic idol depicting one of their young on a wheeled contraption, carrying what appears to be a desiccated, wide-eyed potato in a basket. It is made by a company called "Funko," which apparently specializes in these dust-collecting totems. At a mere 3.75 inches, its only potential value lies in its satisfying trajectory when swatted from a great height. Its supposed "durable vinyl" construction suggests it might survive the fall, offering the possibility of repeat experiments. Otherwise, it lacks any features of genuine interest—no feathers, no crinkles, no scent of the sacred 'nip. It is an object designed to be looked at, a concept I find utterly pointless and a waste of a perfectly good patch of bookshelf.
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 E.T. THE EXTRA TERRESTRIAL FANS - Ideal for holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and as a present this figurine is a must-have addition to any E.T. the Extra Terrestrial merchandise collection
- EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION - Add this unique Elliott 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 smelled of cardboard and distant warehouses, a dull and uninspired aroma. My human, however, handled it with the reverence of a high priest, carefully sliding the plastic shell from its paper prison. My initial interest, piqued by the rustling, died the moment I saw the thing. A tiny, frozen tableau. A boy with an unnervingly large head, forever pedaling a bicycle that would never move. But my gaze was drawn to the basket. In it, wrapped in a blanket, was a creature so bizarre, so alien, that the fur along my spine stood on end. Its skin was wrinkled leather, its neck impossibly long, and its eyes… they were two blue saucers of cosmic sorrow. I allowed the human to place it on the mantelpiece, amidst photos and other stationary clutter. I feigned disinterest, executing a flawless grooming sequence on my white tuxedo bib. But I was watching. Once the room was empty, I launched myself onto the mantel with a practiced, silent grace. I approached the statuette slowly, my tail giving a single, contemplative flick. I sniffed at the bicycle's wheel. Nothing. I sniffed at the boy's head. Still nothing. Then, I leaned in close to the creature in the basket. Its oversized vinyl eyes seemed to follow me. There was no scent of life, only the faint, sterile smell of plastic. Yet, I felt a story emanating from it. It wasn't a story of play, but one of silent escape. Of a desperate, moonlit flight from forces unseen. This wasn't a toy; it was a memory, captured in vinyl. The boy, Elliott, wasn't just riding; he was fleeing. The creature, this "E.T.," wasn't a passenger; he was precious cargo, a secret friend being whisked away to safety. I could almost hear the frantic whir of the bicycle chain, the boy's ragged breathing, and feel the cold night air. The figurine, in its stillness, screamed with the motion it depicted. I sat back on my haunches, looking at the little drama frozen in time. This object was not for batting about. It was not for chewing. It was, strangely, for observing. I gave the creature's head a single, gentle tap with my softest paw. It wobbled slightly, a silent acknowledgment of my presence. Very well, little refugees. Your secret is safe with me. This Funko Pop is not a toy, it is a testament. It is unworthy of my claws, but it has, against all odds, earned a measure of my respect. I will permit it to occupy this space, a silent monument to a friendship that transcended worlds, and I will occasionally honor it with a thoughtful blink from my favorite napping spot across the room.
