Pete's Expert Summary
So, the Human has presented me with this... *thing*. A luridly colored plastic unicorn that, upon inspection, vomits and defecates tiny, sealed packets of even tinier plastic trinkets. The marketing calls this 'festive fun.' I call it a choking hazard. Inside is a miniature world for minuscule plastic hominids, complete with a swing and a carousel that might, for a fleeting moment, provide a target for a well-aimed swat. However, the sheer number of minuscule, easily lost pieces suggests this is less a toy for a distinguished feline such as myself and more an exercise in futility for the Human who will inevitably have to search for them under the furniture. The most promising feature is the cardboard packaging it arrived in, which is likely far superior for napping.
Key Features
- This Polly Pocket Unicorn Partyland playset is full of festive fun! Everyone's invited to celebrate Polly's 35th anniversary with 2 micro dolls and 25 accessories, including pets.
- Don't be a party pooper… rainbow 'puke' packed bags and 'poop' of surprise accessories can be reloaded into the unicorn for repeat fun!
- Open the adorable exterior of the unicorn pinata and bring the party to life with accessories like balloons, party hats, a mini pinata that swings, and cake to share with friends!
- Decorate the hot air balloon with festive 'gem' accessories and open the door to an additional play and storage area!
- Dolls can take turns on the swing that moves back and forth or go for a ride on the unicorn-themed carousel. Make a splash by the waterfall which opens to double as storage space!
- Ideal for kids and collectors alike, ages 4 years old and up will love to celebrate Polly's 35th Anniversary with the Unicorn Partyland playset!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It appeared on the living room rug like a fallen, plastic planet, an offense to the tasteful beige-and-cream decor I work so hard to complement. A unicorn, but one clearly designed by a committee with a surplus of neon paint and a fundamental misunderstanding of equine anatomy. I circled it warily, my tail giving a single, contemptuous flick. It smelled of the factory it was born in and, faintly, of future disappointment. My investigation was, as usual, interrupted by the Human. "Look, Pete! It's a Unicorn Partyland!" she cooed, her voice reaching a pitch that usually precedes an unwanted cuddle. She proceeded to demonstrate its most vulgar feature. With a twist of its horn, the plastic beast produced a small, crinkly packet from its posterior. She called it a "surprise." I call it undignified. She then opened the creature's flank, revealing a chaotic party scene within. My initial assessment was confirmed: a garish slum for pocket-sized people. I was about to retreat to a sunbeam for a cleansing nap when I saw it. Inside the plastic diorama, amidst the saccharine chaos, was a swing. It was a tiny, insignificant thing. The Human, in her misguided attempt to engage me, placed one of the little plastic figures upon it and gave it a gentle push. Back and forth it went. Back. And forth. My refined intellect receded, replaced by a far older, purer instinct. My eyes narrowed. My haunches bunched. The world dissolved into a single, oscillating point of pink plastic. The Human was babbling something about a hot air balloon, but her voice was a distant hum. With the silent, devastating precision of my ancestors, I pounced. Not a clumsy, playful bat, but a true, surgical strike. My paw, a soft gray blur of controlled violence, connected with the tiny doll, sending it skittering across the hardwood floor where it came to rest under the credenza. I looked at the Human, then at the now-empty swing, and gave a slow, deliberate blink. The message was clear: I am the master of this domain, and all that moves within it is subject to my whims. The toy itself was a monument to poor taste. But its tiny, fleeing inhabitants? An acceptable, if brief, diversion. Now, if you'll excuse me, its box looks exceptionally comfortable.
