Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe my life is incomplete without a constant stream of new objects to scrutinize. The latest offering, from a company called Mattel, is a box of flat, flimsy paper rectangles. Apparently, these are for a ritual known as "UNO," this version sullied by illustrations of those warbling "Princesses" she adores. The purpose seems to be for multiple humans to sit in a circle and discard these cards until one of them is permitted to screech. While the strategic element of sliding one of these glossy cards off the table and under a piece of heavy furniture holds some appeal, the overall concept of sitting still and following rules made by humans seems a colossal waste of energy that could be better spent sleeping in a sunbeam.
Key Features
- Beautiful images of Disney Princesses adorn each card of this special edition of the classic UNO matching card game everyone loves.
- This edition will delight kids and collectors; look for favorites like Snow White, Moana, Ariel and Pocahontas.
- Just like in classic UNO, players match cards by color or number in a race to empty their hand. When they're down to one card, they must yell, 'UNO!'
- Play the special 'Power of Friendship' wild card and 1 secret card, face down. The other players put 1 card down, trying to match the color of the secret card. On the count of 3, cards go face-up, and those who match the wild card get to discard
- UNO Disney Princesses makes a great gift for collectors and Disney fans, ages 7 years and older.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The ceremony began, as most tedious human affairs do, with a cracking open of cardboard and the release of that dry, inky smell. My human and her associates gathered around the low table in the living room, a space I generally reserve for meditative tail-watching. They shuffled the deck, a sound like a thousand tiny, irritating whispers, and dealt the so-called "cards." From my vantage point on the cool marble of the hearth, I observed the proceedings with the detached air of a monarch watching peasants haggle over turnips. The colorful portraits—a blonde one trapped in a tower, a brunette one who speaks to woodland creatures—were laid down one by one. It was all very slow, a pathetic pantomime of the strategic territorial disputes I conduct with the squirrel on the patio. My interest, initially at a level I'd reserve for day-old kibble, flickered when the human played a peculiar card. The "Power of Friendship" card, she called it. She placed a single, secret card face-down upon the table, a silent decree. The other humans were then compelled to offer a card from their own hands as tribute, hoping to match its hidden color. The air, thick with the scent of cheap wine and desperation, suddenly held a charge. This was no mere game. This was a test of fealty. The hidden card was the Prime Vole, the Last Can of Tuna, the Unconquered Sunbeam. Who among these bumbling courtiers was truly in sync with their queen? They flipped their cards in unison. Two matched. Two failed. A quiet drama of allegiance and failure played out, entirely lost on the participants who merely giggled and drew more cards. They saw colors and numbers; I saw a subtle and brutal culling of the pack. The game ended, as predicted, with a startling shriek of "UNO!" that caused my ears to flatten instinctively. But as they gathered the cards, their clumsy hands missed one. It was the woman named Moana, the one with the determined gaze who consorts with the ocean, lying face-up by the leg of the table. I waited until the giants had retreated to the kitchen for more of their fermented grape juice. Then, with the silent grace befitting my station, I padded over. The card was smooth, cool, and perfectly weighted. The game was a fool's errand, a mockery of true strategy. But this single, abandoned icon? This was a worthy prize. I nudged it with my nose, then hooked it with a claw, sending it skittering across the hardwood with a most satisfying whisper. It disappeared under the bookshelf, a secret tribute claimed by the only true sovereign in the room. The game is worthless, but its components have potential.
