Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired what appears to be an absurdly large stockpile of colorful, flat objects. She calls it "Crayola Construction Paper," and there are 480 sheets of it, a number that seems excessive for any purpose short of wallpapering my private lavatory. The packaging boasts of "heavy duty" material, which piques my interest—it suggests a certain resilience to a well-placed claw or a vigorous shredding session. The ten different colors are a visual novelty, I suppose, but ultimately, this seems like a tool for my human's strange and pointless rituals. Unless these sheets are destined to become a sprawling, crinkly landscape for me to conquer, I suspect they will mostly just take up valuable space that could be used for napping.
Key Features
- BULK CONSTRUCTION PAPER: The 480-count of Crayola Construction Paper features 48 pages (10 unique colors) per pack.
- CLASSROOM SUPPLIES: This bulk set is ideal for school projects and classroom crafts - a must-have for students and teachers.
- HEAVY DUTY: Sturdy art paper that's both thick and malleable is conveniently bound into a pad for easy accessibility.
- CRAYOLA COLORS: Featured colors include Pink, Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Brown, Black, and White.
- STANDARD SIZE: Each Construction Paper sheet is 9" x 12".
- GIFT FOR KIDS: Crayola Construction Paper makes a crafty gift idea for kids on birthdays and holidays.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The two stacks arrived in a box far more interesting than its contents. My human, however, seemed disproportionately thrilled. She liberated the pads of paper and, to my confusion, did not begin folding them into clumsy birds or cutting out asymmetrical hearts. Instead, she began laying the 9" x 12" sheets on the living room floor in a precise, sprawling grid. A sheet of Red over by my food bowls. A swatch of Blue near the window with the best sunbeam. A stark Black sheet guarding the hallway to the forbidden basement. I sat on the arm of the sofa, tail twitching, my initial boredom curdling into suspicion. This was no arts and crafts session. This was a schematic. I watched her for an hour, my brilliant mind piecing together the conspiracy. This was a map of my domain, color-coded for her own inscrutable human purposes. The sheer volume of it—480 sheets!—spoke to a long-term, meticulously planned operation. Was she charting my patrol routes? Logging my nap durations? The Yellow sheet placed mockingly near the litter box felt like a personal insult. The "heavy duty" texture wasn't for durability in a child's hands; it was to withstand the rigors of her obsessive surveillance. This Crayola brand was clearly a front for a domestic intelligence agency. I could not let this stand. I descended from my perch with the silent grace of a shadow. My first move was reconnaissance. I approached the Orange sheet, which she had placed near the heating vent—my preferred spot for a winter snooze. I extended a single, perfect claw from my white mitten and gave the paper a test-prick. It resisted for a satisfying moment before giving way, leaving a tiny, neat puncture. The material was adequate. My second move was sabotage. I strolled nonchalantly across the grid, "accidentally" sliding the Green sheet (marking the catnip plant) a full six inches to the left. I then sat, with immense purpose, directly upon the Purple sheet in the center of the room, claiming it as my new throne and the command center for my counter-operation. The human sighed, but I had made my point. This paper was not her strategic tool; it was my new tactical battlefield. It is of acceptable quality, not for play, but for the far more serious game of household domination. Its colors are not for art, but for espionage. This so-called "craft supply" has proven itself worthy, but not in any way its manufacturer intended. The war for the living room floor has begun.