Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a clear and concerning lapse of judgment, has presented me with imagery of what can only be described as instruments of aquatic torture. This "JOYIN" brand, a name I shall not soon forget, offers an entire arsenal—eighteen of them!—of plastic contraptions designed to propel the Great Enemy, Water, at high velocity. They are apparently for small, loud humans to engage in "fighting" in the yard or pool, territories I claim only from the comfort of a sunbeam through a window. While the long-range capability might be impressive from a tactical standpoint, the fundamental purpose is abhorrent. This is not a toy. It is a handheld device for creating misery, a direct threat to the integrity of my magnificent fur, and a complete waste of my consideration. The only potential upside is observing the resulting human chaos from a safe, dry distance.
Key Features
- SUPER VALUE PACK. Our Water Super Soaker Blaster Squirt Guns Set includes 18 Packs of 16.5” water guns in different colors. Suit for kids above 36 months
- EASY TO USE. Easy to fill and shoot. Pull back the handle of the water squirter to load the cannon with water, This is gonna last you many more summers of fun and excitement.
- LONG SHOOTING RANGE. Shoot water up to 35 feet. The more pump pressure you give, the longer distance you can shoot.
- PREMIUM QUALITY.Water guns are made of high quality plastic. Designed to be leak-free and easy-to-grip handles which are friendly to children.
- Extremely Fun. Our Water Shooters Set brings the perfect Summer spirit to your beach trip or pool party! Fun outdoor Play period in hot summer, have a great water battle in a swimming pool, beach, yard or garden!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
I first saw them through the shimmering heat waves of the sliding glass door. The human had unboxed a cache of brightly colored weapons, passing them out to a horde of shrieking child-creatures that had infested our backyard. I, of course, was observing this tribal ritual from my command post atop the leather armchair. It began, as I knew it would, with a pilgrimage to the Spigot of the Ancients, where they filled their armaments. I had heard tales from a grizzled alley cat about the "Summer Soaking," a time of great wetness and indignity, but I had dismissed it as street-level superstition. I was wrong. The first shot was fired. A neon green blaster, wielded by a small human with a missing tooth, unleashed a shockingly precise stream of water that arced through the air, striking another child squarely in the chest. A war cry erupted. Chaos bloomed. They were not merely playing; they were enacting a primal battle, a mock-drowning on a grand scale. The air, once filled with the pleasant scent of cut grass and my own superiority, was now thick with the spray of my nemesis and the gleeful screams of the damp. I flattened my ears, my tail twitching in profound disapproval. The sheer inefficiency of it all was offensive. Why waste so much energy getting wet only to have to get dry again later? My human, the ringleader of this moist madness, caught my eye through the glass. He grinned and aimed his own blaster—a garish orange one—not at another human, but at the glass in front of my face. The water splattered against the pane with a dull *thump*, distorting my view of the battlefield into a wavering, blurry mess. The audacity! To so brazenly attack my observation deck! This was a direct insult. I stood, puffed out my chest, and gave him a look that could curdle milk, a glare I usually reserve for when the food bowl is only ninety-percent full. He, of course, was oblivious to the gravity of his offense. He just laughed and turned to spray a shrieking toddler. I settled back down, not with resignation, but with cold, calculating fury. These "Super Soaker Blasters" were not toys. They were agents of anarchy, tools for disrespecting a cat's personal space, even when separated by a wall of glass. They are loud, they are wet, and they encourage the worst impulses of the human species. While the spectacle provided a fleeting distraction from my afternoon nap schedule, the verdict is firm: these devices are an abomination. They are entirely unworthy of my attention, save for the plotting of their eventual, mysterious "disappearance."
