Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and baffling wisdom, has brought another dust-gathering totem into my domain. It's a small, plastic homunculus with an unnaturally large head, supposedly representing some character from one of those screeching-and-flashing-lights shows they enjoy. Made by a company called Funko, which seems to specialize in these inert, soulless figures, its primary function is to be "collectible" and "fit on a desk." From my perspective, its only potential is as a victim for my ongoing studies in applied physics—specifically, the science of gravity as it pertains to objects precariously placed on high shelves. Its "durable vinyl" construction means it will likely make a satisfying *thump* but offers no textural appeal for biting or claw-sharpening. A profound waste of premium napping real estate.
Key Features
- IDEAL COLLECTIBLE SIZE - At approximately 3.75 inches (9.5 cm) tall, this vinyl mini figurine complements other collectable merchandise and fits perfectly in your display case or on your desk.
- PREMIUM VINYL MATERIAL - Made from high-quality, durable vinyl, this collectible is built to last and withstand daily wear, ensuring long-lasting enjoyment for fans and collectors alike.
- PERFECT GIFT FOR THE CONJURING FANS - Ideal for holidays, birthdays, or special occasions and as a present this exclusive figurine is a must-have addition to any The Conjuring merchandise collection
- EXPAND YOUR COLLECTION - Add this unique Ed Warren vinyl display piece to your growing assortment of Funko Pop! figures, and seek out other rare and exclusive collectible items for a complete set
- LEADING POP CULTURE BRAND - Trust in the expertise of Funko, the premier creator of pop culture merchandise that includes vinyl figures, action figures, plush, apparel, board games, and more.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The Warden placed the new effigy on the mantelpiece with a reverence I usually reserve for a freshly opened can of tuna. "There you go, Ed," The Warden cooed. "You can watch over the living room." I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in annoyance. This "Ed" was a stunted creature, all head and tiny suit, with eyes that were just black, vacant dots. He was a paranormal investigator, The Warden had explained, a man who dealt with the unseen. A laughable concept. I am the master of the unseen. I am the shadow that flits at the edge of vision, the silent judge in the dark, the spectral form that materializes on a keyboard at the most inconvenient moment. This house had one ethereal presence, and it was me. That night, a storm raged outside, rattling the windows in their frames. The Warden was huddled under a blanket, engrossed in a book, occasionally glancing nervously at the new plastic sentinel on the mantel. I saw my opportunity for a lesson in true supernatural phenomena. I waited until The Warden’s attention was fully captured by the printed page, then I began my work. With a silent leap, I landed on the end of the mantel, a gray ghost in the firelight. The little man-figure stood motionless, his painted-on solemnity an insult to my craft. I began to purr. Not a gentle, contented rumble, but a low, guttural vibration that started deep in my chest and seemed to make the very air hum. I let it build, a resonant frequency that buzzed against the marble of the mantel. The Warden’s head snapped up, eyes wide. I stared directly at the "Ed" figure, narrowing my own luminous green eyes, and focused my purr, my *will*, upon it. Slowly, imperceptibly at first, the figure began to tremble. It vibrated, shuffling a millimeter to the left, then a millimeter to the right, a dance macabre conducted by my throat’s engine. The Warden gasped, clutching the blanket to their chin. With one final, amplified thrum of my purr, I sent a definitive vibration through the stone. The plastic man tipped forward, fell from the ledge, and clattered onto the hearth below. The Warden shrieked. I, my work complete, leaped silently from the mantel and began meticulously grooming my pristine white ascot, the picture of innocence. The human spent the rest of the evening babbling about poltergeists and residual energy. The little man-figure was retrieved and placed in a drawer, deemed too "active." As a toy, it was a failure. As an instrument for manipulating my staff and reinforcing my otherworldly authority, however, it proved surprisingly effective. It has earned a temporary reprieve from being permanently lost under the sofa.
