If you went to an American elementary school in the late ’80s or early ’90s, you probably remember Weepuls. Or at least, you remember something suspiciously close to Weepuls: tiny, fluffy, googly-eyed creatures with adhesive feet and an aura of manufactured whimsy. They were the kind of thing a six-year-old would cherish like a sacred talisman for approximately 48 hours before inevitably losing it in the bottom of a backpack or having it violently stripped from existence by an overzealous vacuum cleaner. But before that—before they succumbed to entropy—Weepuls mattered.