Pete's Expert Summary
My Human seems to have acquired another one of their plastic effigies. This one appears to be a two-for-one deal: a tall, shiny-headed man in a constricting suit and his bizarre little pet, a thing they call a "Baby Kaiju." The main figure, with its "Ultra Articulation," is clearly designed for the Human's amusement, allowing them to pose it in various undignified positions. Frankly, a statue is a statue, and its ability to bend at the knee is of no consequence to me. However, the collection of tiny, losable parts—extra hands and faces—presents a tantalizing opportunity for mischief. The real prize, though, is the Kaiju. It's small, grotesque, and looks eminently battable. While the tall man is a waste of shelf space, his diminutive companion might just be interesting enough to warrant a flick of the paw before I resume my nap.
Key Features
- Incredibly detailed 7” scale figure based on the character’s appearance in the Superman feature film from DC Studios
- Designed with Ultra Articulation with up to 22 moving parts for full range of posing and play
- Lex Luthor includes Baby Kaiju, 3 alternate face plates, 2 extra hands and figure base
- Includes collectible art card with character art on the front, and character biography on the back
- Collect all McFarlane Toys DC Multiverse Figures
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The air in the living room, once thick with the satisfying aroma of my afternoon slumber, was suddenly pierced by the crinkle of plastic and the scent of a new tribute. My Human was unboxing another offering. I cracked open a single green eye, observing the ritual from my velvet chaise lounge. Out of the box came a bald man, impeccably dressed. He stood stiffly on the coffee table, a monument to human vanity. I yawned. Another motionless spectator to my magnificent existence. I had seen doorstops with more personality. But then, the Human laid out the rest of the contents like a bizarre feast. Tiny, disembodied hands. A trio of alternate faces, each frozen in a different silent scream of ambition or displeasure. It was a macabre puppet show waiting to happen. And then I saw it. Tucked beside the stoic man was a creature, a "Baby Kaiju." It was a twisted little beast of gray and purple, all spines and gnarled limbs, with an expression of permanent, monstrous confusion. It was, I had to admit, exquisitely ugly. The Human, the grand puppeteer, began the performance. They affixed a sneering face to the bald man and placed the tiny Kaiju in his grasp. He was positioned to look down upon it, a master surveying his grotesque pet. For a moment, the tableau held a certain dramatic tension. I rose, stretching languidly, and padded over to the stage. I ignored the man entirely; he was merely the set dressing. My focus was on his co-star. I circled the Kaiju, my tail giving a slow, contemplative twitch. I sniffed it. It smelled of industry and long-distance shipping, a scent wholly alien to my carefully curated world. With the utmost delicacy, I extended a single, unsheathed claw and gave the Kaiju a gentle *tink*. It wobbled but did not fall. Interesting. It had a certain resilience. The bald man, for all his moving parts, simply stood there, a silent, ineffective guardian. The little monster was the heart of the scene. I could see its future. It would not be a plaything, not in the traditional sense. It would be my accomplice. A paperweight to be nudged from a desk. A silent conspirator to be hidden in a shoe. A small, ugly gargoyle to stand watch over my food bowl, ensuring no one dared approach. The bald man can keep his interchangeable faces and his pointless articulation. He is a prop. But his little companion? The Baby Kaiju has earned its place. It is not a toy to be destroyed, but a character piece to be integrated into the grand theater of my life. The performance was passable, but only because it introduced a worthy new member to my supporting cast.
