Pete's Expert Summary
My Human seems to believe my life is incomplete without tiny plastic effigies of their own kind. This latest offering from the LEGO corporation is, apparently, a miniature human engaged in the absurd activity of sliding on ice while chasing a disc. From my vantage point, the entire construct is a collection of choking hazards that will inevitably be scattered under the heaviest furniture. The figurine itself, a mere 1.7 inches of static disappointment, holds no appeal. The stick is a passable batting object, I suppose. However, the tiny black puck... now that has potential. Its size and shape suggest it could achieve a truly magnificent skitter across the hardwood floors. A single, redeeming feature in an otherwise baffling collection of plastic junk.
Key Features
- Included - Hockey player Boy Figure with Hockey Stick and Puck. A Great Holiday Stocking Stuffer for Kids!
- Authentic LEGO Parts - Exclusive Item From LEGO Holiday Set. (All New Design for 2024)
- Small Parts - Figure Measures 1.7 Inches tall. - Not Suitable for Kids under 5 years of Age.
- Loose - Comes in Loose Pieces ready to build. No retail Packaging
- Authentic LEGO Parts
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began at dusk. My Human, with the focused intensity they usually reserve for opening a can of my favorite tuna, was hunched over the coffee table, clicking together minuscule pieces of colored plastic. I observed from my command post on the velvet armchair, tail twitching in strategic assessment. The target was assembled: a helmeted Guardian, a bladed Scepter, and the objective, a small, black Orb of immense kinetic promise. Once complete, the Human placed the entire tableau on the mantelpiece, a high-security shelf I am technically not allowed on, and then foolishly left the room. This was my window. A silent leap, a maneuver of liquid grace honed by years of practice, landed me on the forbidden mantel. The Guardian stood there, impassive, its painted-on smile a mockery of true contentment. A lesser cat would have simply swatted the entire thing to the floor in a moment of chaotic glee. But I am a professional. This was not about destruction; it was about acquisition. The Guardian was irrelevant. The Scepter was merely a tool. The Orb was the prize. With the delicate precision of a surgeon, I extended a single, sharp claw. I ignored the Guardian's plastic head, bypassing its Scepter entirely. My target was the Orb, resting loosely at its feet. A gentle, calculated flick was all it took. The Orb separated from the Guardian's domain with a soft *tink*, rolled to the edge of the mantel, and took a delightful plunge to the hardwood below. The resulting *skitter-skattle-clack* was a symphony of success. I landed on the floor a moment later, a silent gray shadow. The Guardian remained on its perch, a monument to failure, its purpose defeated. The Orb was mine. I gave it a test bat; it slid beautifully, disappearing into the dark, dusty vault beneath the entertainment center. A perfect extraction. The toy itself is a waste of a good nap, but its component parts have proven to be of exceptional value. Mission accomplished.
