Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired yet another set of plastic effigies, this time from a brand called "Monster High." They are apparently meant to be characters from some loud human movie, trapped in a matrimonial diorama. One is a gaudy fellow in stripes holding a heart, the other a female figure swathed in an excessive amount of red tulle. From my perspective, these are not toys. They are statues, destined for a high shelf where they will do nothing but gather dust, a task a simple sunbeam performs with far more elegance. The fabric on the female doll's dress might offer a moment's satisfying snag, but since they are designated "Skullector" items, I suspect any attempt to *play* with them would result in my immediate and dramatic eviction from the room. A complete waste of packaging and my valuable cognitive resources.
Key Features
- Beware, the Juice is loose And he wants to get married (it's a contract thing). For better or worse, Betelgeuse and Lydia dolls are ready to walk down the aisle in this Monster High Skullector set
- Inspired by the film Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, this collectible brings the doomed duo to un-life in stunning detail
- Betelgeuse wears a striped suit with a ruffled collar, accented by faux leather panels and shoes with tombstone and beetle heels
- Lydia is dressed in her frightful finest: a gore-geous red tulle gown complete with a sheer veil, bow collar, and jagged Swiss dot skirt
- Who says romance is dead Betelgeuse holds heart in hand in the ultimate gesture of affection, while Lydia carries a bouquet that doubles as a purse
- With dreadfully deluxe box and two doll stands for display, this Beetlejuice Beetlejuice x Monster High Skullector 2-Pack is a memorable creepsake for fans of the film
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The monolith arrived on a Tuesday, a day I usually reserve for deep contemplation of the structural integrity of the window sill. The human, with that familiar glint of misguided optimism in her eyes, sliced it open and presented me with its contents. Inside a clear plastic prison were two figures, frozen in what I can only assume was a state of profound awkwardness. "Look, Pete!" she chirped, "It's a Skullector set! Aren't they dreadfully divine?" I gave her a look that I hoped conveyed my deep, philosophical exhaustion with her vocabulary. She dared to liberate them from their packaging, placing them on the rug. I approached with the cautious dignity befitting my station. The male figure, reeking faintly of vinyl and desperation, stared blankly into the middle distance. His suit was a dizzying array of stripes that offended my refined gray-and-white sensibilities. I gave his tombstone-heeled shoe a tentative pat. It didn't wiggle. It didn't skitter. It did nothing. Useless. I moved on to the female, whose garish red dress was a chaotic explosion of netting. The texture was intriguing; it whispered promises of glorious, satisfying shredding. I extended a single, perfect claw, preparing to test its mettle. "Ah-ah! Not for you, Mr. Paws," the human chided, swooping them up before my investigation could yield any meaningful data. She snapped them onto their little plastic pedestals and placed them on the highest bookshelf, next to a dusty art book I had already judged and condemned months ago. There they stood, the striped groom and his crimson bride, forever poised for a ceremony that would never happen. They were observers now, silent witnesses to my far more interesting life. I turned my back on the shelf, my magnificent tail a fluffy question mark of dismissal. A stray sunbeam had just appeared on the floor, a warm, golden puddle of pure potential. I stalked it with the focus of a seasoned hunter, pouncing and rolling in its ethereal glow. The plastic couple could have their dreadful, static romance. I had found my bliss, a far more tangible and soul-warming prize. They weren't a toy; they were just scenery for my much more compelling drama.
