Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is profound misunderstanding of my sophisticated needs, has presented me with a clutch of... *frog-shaped projectiles*. The brand, "Sportime," suggests an undignified level of exertion, and their garish, cartoonish faces are clearly meant for undeveloped human infants. However, their advertised "indestructibility" is a gauntlet thrown, and the mention of plastic pellets inside implies a satisfying heft and a potentially interesting skittering sound across the hardwood. While the tacky, "leather-like" vinyl exterior offends my sensibilities, the sheer audacity of these six colorful amphibians might warrant a brief, violent investigation before I return to my sunbeam.
Key Features
- The Sportime Indestructible Bean Bag Frogs are filled with plastic pellets and have a leather-like outside shell. Each heavy-duty bag is waterproof and manufactured using rotational molding technology.
- Fun cartoon-like design will thrill kids
- Durable vinyl exterior for longevity
- Great for bean bag toss, juggling and hot potato
- Bold and bright colors will enthuse and excite
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The six of them arrived without ceremony, a silent, multi-colored council plopped onto the living room rug. They did not scurry. They did not chirp. They simply sat there, their stitched-on smiles a mockery of true contentment. I observed them from my perch on the armchair, my tail twitching a rhythm of pure disdain. A gang. That’s what they were. The red one was clearly the hot-headed muscle, the blue one the cool strategist, the green one a smug traditionalist. I decided to make an example of the yellow one; its cheerfulness was the most offensive. I descended with the feigned nonchalance of a falling cloud. A casual paw-pat sent the yellow frog skittering across the polished floor. It made a satisfying, gravelly *shush* as the pellets inside shifted, a sound like secrets being whispered. It came to a stop against the leg of the coffee table with a dull *thud*. No squeak of terror, no plea for mercy. This was a stoic adversary. I pounced, pinning it with both front paws, and brought my face close. Its vinyl skin was cool and unnervingly smooth, smelling faintly of a factory. I unleashed my claws, honed to perfection on the forbidden tapestry of the dining room chairs, and raked them across its back. Nothing. Not a tear, not a snag. The so-called "rotational molding" had left no seams, no weakness for me to exploit. This was no mere toy. This was an interrogation. I subjected the yellow frog to a battery of tests. I batted it into the air, watching it tumble end over end, its weight making it a predictable, satisfying projectile. I gripped it in my teeth and shook my head violently, but its "indestructible" hide refused to yield. I pushed it to the very edge of the staircase and watched it plummet to the tile below, where it landed with an impertinent slap. It stared up at me, unmoved, its dumb smile unchanged. Finally, panting slightly, I ceased my assault. The gang of frogs remained, a silent, durable fraternity. They were not worthy of being my prey, for they lacked the essential spirit of fear. They were not soft enough to be a pillow. But they were... reliable. Solid. They were the perfect subjects for practicing my pounce, immovable objects against which I could test my irresistible force. I gave the yellow one a final, authoritative shove, sending it sliding back to its colorful brethren. They were not friends, but they had earned a measure of respect. They could stay. For now, they would serve as my silent, uncomplaining sparring partners.
