Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired a minuscule plastic fiddle attached to a jangling chain, a novelty she finds endlessly amusing. Apparently, its sole function is to emit a tinny, sorrowful tune when a biped applies excessive pressure to its posterior. She seems to think this is the appropriate response to my very reasonable demands for a second breakfast or a sunbeam adjustment. The purpose of this "MunnyGrubbers" device is entirely lost on me, as my sorrows are genuine and deserve high-quality salmon, not a synthesized dirge. While the keychain presents a minor opportunity for batting practice, the sound is an insult to my finely tuned ears and a waste of perfectly good battery life that could be powering a laser dot.
Key Features
- An Amazon best-seller, and made famous on TikTok, this tiny miniature toy instrument is a funny way to send your friends your condolences!
- Funny novelty gift idea for friends and family that complain too much. Show your friends how much you actually care for their sorrows. Boohoo, send your friend your condolences with the world's smallest violin by playing a sad song.
- Press firmly and hold the button on the back of the violin to play a sad song, it will repeat if held. The music will stop if the button is released. Be sure to press harder than you expect to engage the button, otherwise the sound may loop prematurely.
- High quality branded batteries ensures a long life. A mini screwdriver is included to easily replace the battery just in case. Make sure to pull the battery tab out lightly. Sometimes the battery may loosen from pulling out the tab and the sound will not work properly. Try inserting the tab back in and removing it several times to reset it.
- If there are sound quality issues please try tapping the violin on a desk lightly, the batteries inside may be loose. If that does not work, try replacing the three "Ag3" batteries by undoing the screws on the back. Fresh batteries should last a long time.
- The original World's Smallest Violin Keychain Toy by: Munnygrubbers (R) - All rights reserved - Owned by Munnygrubbers LLC. ~ PENDING trade dress serial number: 98212497 ~
- The original World's Smallest Violin Keychain Toy by: Munnygrubbers (R) - All rights reserved - Owned by Munnygrubbers LLC
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Steward presented the bauble to me with a flourish, dangling it by its metallic chain. "Look, Pete! It's for when you're being a little drama queen!" I gave her a look that could curdle cream and turned my head away, feigning disinterest. She pressed the button on its back. Nothing. She pressed harder, her thumb turning white. A faint, distorted crackle, like a fly being electrocuted, was the only result. She sighed, reading the tiny packaging. "Says you have to pull the tab out lightly... or tap it if the batteries are loose." After several more failed attempts, she tossed the silent, defective trinket onto the end table in disgust and went to brew her sad brown water. Left to my own devices, I approached the object. It was an affront. A toy that does not perform its function is a breach of the sacred pact between provider and provided-for. I sniffed it. It smelled of failure and cheap plastic. I nudged it with my nose. Pathetic. Then I remembered her words: "tap it." This was not a request for play; it was a challenge to my intellect. I am, after all, a master of percussive maintenance, having "fixed" the television remote by knocking it off the armrest on more than one occasion. With the careful precision of a bomb disposal expert, I raised a single, fluffy gray paw. I did not swat it wildly. Instead, I delivered a firm, calculated *thump* directly to the violin's face, sending it skittering across the polished wood. The impact was just enough to jolt its cheap little innards into alignment. I then padded over to where it lay, and with the regal air of a monarch pressing a ceremonial button, I delicately pressed the small nub on its back with the tip of one claw. A mournful, piercingly clear melody filled the silent room. It was dreadful, of course, a truly lamentable sound. But it was *working*. The Steward poked her head out of the kitchen, her eyes wide. "You fixed it!" she exclaimed. I held the note for a second longer, a tiny smirk playing on my lips, before releasing the button and turning my back on the now-functional violin. I had not played with the toy. I had conquered it, proven my superior diagnostic skills, and restored order to the universe. Its purpose was not to mock my sorrow, but to serve as a testament to my genius. Having done so, it was now beneath my notice.
