Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured a box of stiff, bottle-shaped paper which they call a 'game.' Apparently, the bipedal entertainment for the evening involves staring at these colorful little rectangles and making deduction noises to solve some trivial 'mystery.' From my superior vantage point on the velvet armchair, I can see the potential appeal: the small, slide-out box could make a satisfying skitter across the hardwood floor with the right encouragement, and the cards' unusual shape might be perfect for batting under the credenza. However, it lacks any crinkle, scent, or flutter. It is, in essence, a distraction from the far more compelling mystery of why my food bowl is only 90% full. A momentary diversion, at best.
Key Features
- WHAT’S INCLUDED: This game comes with 80 mystery cards and instructions. Uniquely packaged in matchbox style tuck box, this game is easy to bring on the go. Colorful cards are shaped liked vintage elixir bottles (4.25" x 2.25").
- GREAT GAME: High-quality card game is perfect for any party, family activity or game night. Great for teens and adults alike. Makes a great hostess gift or a game to bring on the go.
- For 2 or more players, Age 10 and Up
- FRONT PORCH CLASSIC GAMES: Front Porch Classic Games are a collection of card, dice, word, trivia and nostalgic games for everyone! You’ll find high-quality games that provide endless play value for the whole family.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The evening began, as most do, with a profound sense of injustice. My human, who I shall call The Provider, was paying attention to a small, rectangular box instead of the perfectly groomed, tuxedo-clad feline sitting three feet away. The box slid open, and from it emerged not treats, but a flock of flat, bottle-shaped objects. They were arranged on the coffee table like fallen soldiers. The Provider and a guest began peering at them, muttering about clues and culprits. I, of course, was initially unimpressed. More human nonsense. I decided a closer inspection was warranted, if only to find a suitable corner on which to sharpen my claws. I leaped silently onto the table, landing with a soft thud that barely disturbed the air. The humans paused their game. I ignored them, my focus drawn to the "cards." Up close, they weren't just paper. The "Claredon's Mystery Tonic" label on each one sparked something in my memory—not a real memory, but one inherited from the collective consciousness of my ancestors. These were elixirs. Each bottle-card represented a captured essence, a sliver of a story trapped in cardboard. My whiskers twitched as I sniffed a particularly green one. It didn't smell like cardboard; it smelled, in a way only I could perceive, of jealousy and damp wool. Another, a lurid orange, carried the psychic scent of a poorly planned alibi. The humans read the text, blind to the true narrative. They debated motives and timelines while I was communing with the very fabric of the mystery. It was then that I saw it: a single card, lying slightly apart from the others. It was a deep, velvety purple, and it practically hummed with the aura of a final, unassailable truth. It was the answer. With the careful, deliberate motion of a seasoned hunter, I extended a single, perfect white paw. My claws remained sheathed—this was an act of intellect, not aggression. I gently pushed the purple bottle towards The Provider, nudging it until it rested against their hand. They looked down, startled, then read the card. A slow smile spread across their face. "Of course," they said, "The butler did it! Pete, you genius!" They were wrong, of course. It was clearly the disgruntled gardener. But I allowed them their simple victory. They provided a triumphant chin scratch as a reward, which was, I suppose, an acceptable outcome. The game itself is a trifle, but it can, on occasion, serve as a proper vessel for showcasing my obvious and overwhelming brilliance.
