Eleven Points of Articulation, One Perfect Tap

The human called it a "gift," placing the plastic sentinel on the far end of the mantelpiece. It stood there, a silent challenge in its ridiculous blue and red pajamas, its molded jawline set in a look of grim determination. An intruder in my domain. I watched from the floor, tail twitching, calculating the trajectory. The mantel is my territory, a high-altitude perch for observing the lesser beings of the household. This garish homunculus was an unacceptable addition to the landscape. My ascent was silent and fluid, a ripple of gray fur against the stone. I approached the subject with the caution of a bomb disposal expert. It was larger up close, its plastic scent sharp and uninviting. I gave it an exploratory nudge with my nose. It didn't budge. Solidly built. The manufacturer, Spin Master, seemed to have accounted for basic turbulence. This would require a more nuanced approach. I noted its arms and legs, the "11 points of articulation" the human had babbled about. These were not limbs; they were levers. Weak points. My first strike was a precise jab at its right arm, hooking a claw into the joint and pulling it forward until it pointed accusingly at a framed photograph of my human's goofy cousin. The figure's balance shifted, but it held. Impressive. I then addressed the lower half, batting a leg until it was bent at an awkward, undignified angle. The plastic man now looked less like a hero and more like he'd had a very unfortunate accident involving a revolving door. He was teetering now, a monument to my superior understanding of physics. The final touch was not a brutish shove but a delicate tap, delivered with a single, extended claw to the back of its hollow head. It leaned, hesitated for a moment as if contemplating its fate, and then plummeted. The red cape, its most theatrical feature, billowed out behind it, a final, useless flourish before it landed with a satisfyingly dull *thwump* on the thickest part of the rug. Victory. I stared down at the fallen hero, then began a meticulous grooming of my shoulder. This "Superman" was no match for a feline intellect, but I must concede, as a tool for demonstrating the inescapable laws of gravity, it is exceptionally well-designed. It may remain.