A Review · From: Monster High
Wednesday Dethroned by a Sitting Tuxedo Cat
Our critic retakes the sunlit mantel by planting himself in front of the gothic usurper, his fluffy form a perfect eclipse, leaving the doll staring into superior fur.
My Human seems to have acquired another plastic effigy. This one, a collaboration between "Monster High" and some dreary television show, is a small, dark-clad humanoid with an unnervingly large head and a severe lack of color. It's loaded with tiny, lose-able bits: a backpack, spiderweb-patterned leg coverings, and most curiously, a disembodied hand they call "Thing." While the tiny hand presents a fleeting moment of intrigue, the inclusion of a "doll stand" is the ultimate insult. It confirms my suspicion that this object is not intended for vigorous, life-affirming play, but for static, silent judgment from a shelf. It is, in short, furniture. An ornament designed to gather dust and my contempt, a complete waste of perfectly good pouncing energy.
It began as a territorial dispute. For cycles of the sun, the prime spot on the living room mantelpiece was mine. It offered an unparalleled view of the entire domain, a direct line of sight to the food-preparer in the kitchen, and was bisected by the most luxurious sunbeam from noon until three. Then, *she* arrived. The Human placed her there, on her little plastic throne, a silent, dark usurper in my sun-drenched kingdom. I observed her from the floor, a spindly creature of shadow and plastic, her vacant eyes staring into nothing. With her was a tiny, severed hand, an accomplice in this silent coup.
I made my ascent. A soft leap, a click of claws on wood, and I was there, face to impassive face with the intruder. Her scent was sterile, a chemical newness that offended my sophisticated senses. I circled her, my magnificent tail held high in a question mark of disdain. I noted the absurd details on her platform boots—a cello and a scorpion. Utterly impractical. I nudged the tiny hand, Thing, with my nose. It was hard, unyielding, and offered no satisfying wobble. This was not a toy. This was a statement. A challenge.
The Human’s voice drifted from the sofa. “Oh, Pete, do you like your new sister?” Sister? The sheer audacity. This unblinking totem was no sister of mine. I could not, of course, resort to base violence and send her plummeting to the floorboards below; such an act is beneath me and results in unseemly shrieking from the Human. Instead, I opted for a display of subtle, undeniable superiority.
With the grace of a falling shadow, I turned my back to the doll. I situated myself directly in front of her, my soft, gray form a perfect eclipse, and began a meticulous grooming session, ensuring my fluffy tuxedo completely obscured her from the world. Let her stare into the glorious abyss of my fur. I then curled into a perfect circle, claiming the entirety of the sunbeam for myself. The mantel was mine again. The doll was not worthy of my attention as a plaything, but she had briefly served a purpose: to remind the Human where the true art in this house resides. And it purrs.
Exhibit A — the specimen
The Particulars
—The Monster High x Wednesday collection pays tribute to the darkly witty and downright eerie television series with a screamium line of dolls.
—A striking vision in her trademark black, this Wednesday Addams doll reimagines the show’s titular character and her iconic gothic style through a Monster High lens.
—A tie, statement belt, and spiderweb tights complement Wednesday’s Nevermore Academy uniform. Chunky platform boots feature her cello on one heel and her beloved scorpion Nero on the other.
—She comes with her loyal confidante Thing sporting his signature stitches, as well as a glossy black backpack with skullette and spiderweb details.
—Check out the entire Monster High x Wednesday line for more delightfully dire dolls. They make memorable gifts for collectors and fans alike. Each sold separately, subject to availability.
Pete's Verdict
★★☆☆☆
Outmanoeuvred. My fur is the real art.
Filed under: Monster High