Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe our home requires more small, silent, plastic effigies of other humans. This latest offering is a tribute to the loud lady who sings the same song every time the sparkly tree comes out. It’s a "collectible," which is human-speak for "do not touch, do not bat, do not even *think* about gnawing on its suspiciously stiff hair." It comes encased in a transparent prison, dressed in a gown that looks like a fire hazard made of pure glitter—a substance I consider a personal and dermatological foe. While the shiny silver bits might have offered a moment's diversion, their inaccessibility renders this entire affair a monumental waste of vertical space that could have been occupied by a much more interesting cardboard box.
Key Features
- All I want for Christmas is a Mariah Carey Barbie doll What better way to celebrate the holidays than with the season's star herself
- Mariah Carey is one of the top-selling female artists of all the time, and Barbie honors this incredible vocalist with a collectible doll in her likeness
- She dazzles in a glittery red gown that cuts a sublime silhouette against any winter backdrop. A ruched overlay at the hips and a dramatic hem slit add eye-catching detail
- Lights are shining so brightly everywhere, and Mariah doll makes a statement with her signature flair Glamorous curls, sparkly silver accessories and matching red heels complete her festive look
- Just as her joyous anthem "All I Want For Christmas Is You" has become a holiday staple, let the Mariah Barbie doll become a treasured part of your holiday displays for years to come
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ceremony was, as usual, absurd. The Human held the rectangular prism aloft as if it were a sacred offering. The air filled with the scent of fresh plastic and disappointment. Inside, a tiny woman was frozen mid-song, her face locked in a rictus of joy that I found deeply unsettling. She was presented to me. "Look, Pete! It's Mariah!" The Human cooed, placing the box on the floor. I approached with the caution befitting a potential ambush. My initial assessment was grim. The creature was trapped, immobile. Its crimson pelt shed a fine, insidious dust of glitter that I knew would haunt my fur for weeks if I got too close. Its mane was a cascade of unnaturally perfect curls, a silent challenge to my own grooming standards. I circled the prison once, then twice, tail twitching. I gave the clear wall a tentative pat. Nothing. No reaction, no scent of fear, not even a satisfying rattle. It was an inert, soulless thing. This wasn't prey. It wasn't even a worthy adversary. A strange thought, a narrative from some half-remembered dream, began to form. Perhaps this wasn't a toy. Perhaps it was a warning. The Human had procured a totem of a powerful sorceress, a siren whose song signaled the coming of the Cold Times, and encased her in a magical prison to protect our home. This tiny, glittering statue was a bound entity, a silent guardian whose power was held in check by the clear walls of its cell. Its very stillness was its strength. For a moment, I felt a flicker of respect. I, Pete, Guardian of the Sofa, and she, Mariah, Silent Sentinel of the Bookshelf. We could be allies in the long, dark nights of winter. I gave the box a slow, deliberate blink of understanding. But then, the Human picked it up and placed it on the mantelpiece, right next to a scented candle that smelled of fake pine. My grand theory crumbled into dust, much like the glitter from her dress. She wasn't a bound sorceress. She was just clutter. With a sigh that ruffled my white bib, I turned away. The world was full of profound disappointments. I had important business to attend to, namely, the systematic testing of gravity on a pen left precariously on the edge of the coffee table. Some things, at least, were reliably interactive.
