Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired this miniature totem from a brand called "World's Smallest," a name which, I must admit, is entirely accurate. It’s a tiny, brown plastic creature with unsettlingly large eyes, supposedly from one of those moving-picture stories they favor. Its primary features for a being of my caliber would be its diminutive size, which makes it a prime candidate for being batted under the heaviest furniture, and its supposedly "articulated" limbs and "telescoping" neck. While the potential for a satisfying skitter across the hardwood is present, the inclusion of a "display case" and "stand" suggests my human's tragic intention: to have it looked at, not played with. This is a fundamental misunderstanding of an object's purpose and a potential waste of my very valuable time.
Key Features
- The beloved E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial is now available in micro size!
- Measuring up to 1.25 inches tall, E.T. has a telescoping neck and two points of articulation
- Includes: 1 figure, 1 mini display case and 1 stand
- A perfect Easter basket stuffer, stocking stuffer, party favor, and more!
- For E.T. fans of all ages. Recommended for ages 6 and up
- Target Gender: Unisex
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began at 0300 hours, under the pale glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. My target, designated "Subject Epsilon-Tango," was secured in a transparent polymer prison on the low table in the living room. My human, the Warden, was deep in her slumber-hibernation. I moved with the silence my sleek tuxedo form affords me, a shadow gliding over the terrain of the rug. Leaping onto the table was a triviality, my paws making no sound on the wooden surface. There it was, the strange little homunculus, staring out with its vacant, painted eyes. Phase one was liberation. A simple, well-placed nudge of my nose was sufficient to topple the flimsy containment unit. The door popped open on impact, and the subject slid out onto the polished wood. It was smaller than I had anticipated, smaller than the June bugs I sometimes allow to believe they have a chance of escape. I circled it once, my tail giving a slow, deliberate twitch. It had a peculiar, plasticky scent, devoid of the honest aroma of prey. Its vulnerability was an insult. I extended a single, sharp claw—my finest surgical instrument—and gently probed the creature. I tested its articulated arms; they flopped with pathetic weakness. Then, I found the mechanism for its primary defensive feature: the telescoping neck. With a delicate push, the head extended upwards with a faint *click*. A threat display? An attempt to communicate? I was unmoved. I pinned the creature lightly with my paw, feeling its hollow plastic form beneath my pads. This was not a worthy adversary. This was not even a challenging puzzle. It was merely... an object. My final verdict was delivered with a swift, decisive flick of my paw. Subject Epsilon-Tango went skittering across the floor, its gangly limbs tumbling in a most undignified manner until it vanished into the dark abyss beneath the entertainment center, a realm from which few trinkets ever return. The mission was a success, I suppose. The anomaly had been neutralized. It had provided a brief, if entirely one-sided, moment of engagement. Perhaps I will allow the Warden to acquire another, just to see if the next one puts up more of a fight. Now, to my heated bed. This agent's work is done.
