Pete's Expert Summary
So, the human has acquired another miniature, plastic effigy of their species, this one named "Barbie Malibu." Apparently, she's an aspiring capitalist with a penchant for roller skating and face paint. From my vantage point on the silk pillow, the doll itself seems entirely too large and rigid for any sophisticated form of play—a glorified statue, really. However, the accompanying collection of tiny plastic detritus—a "purse," a "phone," a "mirror"—holds some promise. These are precisely the right size and shape to be batted under the refrigerator, a far more noble purpose than whatever "storytelling" the human has in mind. The doll's synthetic, pink-tipped hair might offer a moment's distraction, but the real value is clearly in the potential for chaotic relocation of its accessories.
Key Features
- The Barbie Dream Besties Barbie "Malibu" loves to roller skate – Watch her skate in her detailed outfit with fun-themed accessories!
- Barbie "Malibu" is chasing her dreams of owning her own makeup company! She comes with themed accessories, like her lip gloss, heart-shaped mirror compact, bow purse, , butterfly kneepads, camera, a drink, and a phone.
- The doll is posable and is wearing removable fashions, like her sparkle butterfly top layered over a sheer white long sleeve, butterfly-patterned denim shorts with a peplum hem, and her matching blue roller skates with wing details!
- Barbie "Malibu" doll features long blonde, styled in two pigtails with a pearl hairpin, with pink-ombre tips to show her expressive personality!
- The doll set makes a great gift for kids 4 years old and up, especially those who love styling and storytelling!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The artifact arrived in a clear prison, which the human dismantled with predictable glee. Out came the Guardian, a sentinel with a vacant, blue-eyed stare and hair the color of sunset and bubblegum. She was placed on the rug, flanked by her tribute: a tiny camera, a minuscule phone, a compact mirror no bigger than my claw. The human chattered about her "dreams" of a "makeup company." I, however, saw the situation for what it was: a territorial challenge. This newcomer, this "Malibu," had established a base of operations right in the middle of my mid-afternoon sunbeam. I observed from the shadows of the armchair, my tail twitching a slow, deliberate rhythm. The Guardian was immobile, her primary defense being her unnerving stillness and those roller skates with their ridiculous little wings. A lesser feline might have been deterred. I am not a lesser feline. I saw her weakness: she was over-encumbered. Her power was diffused across her many tiny, tempting possessions. To defeat her, I would not attack her directly. I would dismantle her empire. My first move was a masterpiece of stealth and misdirection. I yawned, a grand, theatrical display of utter boredom, stretching my forelegs until my claws pricked the velvet of the chair. The human, satisfied I was disinterested, turned to answer a ping from their own, much larger phone. That was my opening. I dropped to the floor, a silent grey wraith. I bypassed the garish doll and went straight for the heart-shaped mirror. A single, expert tap sent it skittering across the hardwood, its trajectory perfectly calculated to end under the heaviest part of the sofa. One down. Next, the little bow purse. This required more finesse. It was soft, with no satisfying slide. I hooked it with a single claw and, with a flick of my wrist, flung it through the air. It landed silently in the pot of the fake fern in the corner, a perfect hiding spot. The Guardian stood, unmoved, her painted-on smile a mask of ignorance. She had no idea her tiny dynasty was crumbling. I gave her plastic leg a cursory sniff—uninteresting—before trotting away, leaving her to her static, accessory-less fate. The doll is a failure, a monument to poor taste. But as a delivery system for high-quality floor clutter? Exquisite.
