Pete's Expert Summary
My humans, in their infinite and often misguided quest to entertain themselves, have procured a miniature arena where two garishly colored plastic puppets engage in a futile, noisy battle. It's a "Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots" contraption, a product from Mattel Games, a known purveyor of human amusements that rarely consider the refined palate of a feline. The entire device seems designed to generate irritating clicking noises and sudden, jarring thwacks as two oversized bipeds mash buttons. Frankly, the spectacle itself is beneath me. However, I am intrigued by the primary objective: to "knock your opponent’s block off." A small, flying piece of plastic? Now that has potential. It could be a delightful new puck to slide across the hardwood or a trophy to hide in a shoe. The game is a waste of my time, but its byproduct might just be worth the wait.
Key Features
- Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots deliver hard-hitting fun for over 40 years!
- The classic boxing match pits Red Rocker versus Blue Bomber in the ring.
- The game has one key aim be the first to knock your opponent’s block off!
- Kids will have a blast battling it out with realistic sounds and jaw-jolting action.
- For 2 players.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The call came in around 1900 hours. Not on a phone, of course. It was a sound. A rhythmic, grating *clack-clack-clack* followed by a sharp *THWACK*. The kind of noise that murders a perfectly good nap. I cracked open an eye from my post on the velvet armchair. The scene of the crime: the living room rug. The perps: my two humans, hunched over a lurid yellow square. Inside, two figures, a Red Menace and a Blue Brawler, were locked in clumsy combat. This was the "Rock 'Em Sock 'Em" case. My job: to observe, to judge, to determine if this new disturbance was a threat or an opportunity. I moved with the silence my tuxedo suggests, slinking behind the sofa for a better vantage point. The humans were agitated, their faces illuminated by the overhead light, shouting nonsense like "Get him!" and "Right in the jaw!" Their thumbs, clumsy and fat, slammed down on the controls, translating their primal rage into the pathetic flailing of the plastic combatants. The noise was an assault on the senses. The action was repetitive. A lesser cat would have fled. But I'm Pete. I stay on the case. I was looking for the angle, the twist. And then it happened. The Red Menace, after a particularly violent-sounding *CRACK*, landed a blow. The Blue Brawler's head—a perfect, cerulean cube of plastic—popped from its shoulders with a satisfying snap. It flew through the air in a glorious arc, a silent testament to shoddy engineering, and landed with a tantalizing *skitter* near the leg of the coffee table. The humans roared, one in triumph, one in defeat. They didn't see what I saw. They saw the end of a game. I saw the beginning of one. The evidence was secured. While the humans reset their noisy ritual, I crept from my hiding place. The little blue head was cool and smooth under my paw. A flick sent it spinning across the polished floor, a far more elegant and compelling sport than the button-mashing that birthed it. My final report: the Mattel Games device is a cacophonous failure as entertainment. However, as a dispenser of high-quality, lightweight batting objects, it's an unqualified success. Case closed. Now, to hide this evidence under the refrigerator.
