Dazed from his desert crash and pricklier than a porcupine, our poor teapot limps into a doctorās office, hoping for some medical help and maybe a juice box. But just as he settles into the scratchy plastic chair, in shuffles something that seems in far worse condition than him...
claymation. A wide-eyed, terrified teapot floating down dangles from a patchwork hand-crafted parachute, visibly stitched with torn fabric. A thought bubble tgat says "oh s#*t!" The teapotās fingers clutch the parachute cords in sheer terror. directly below him, in a scorching hot desert, is an angry ...