Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired a collection of four small, brightly colored boxes, apparently containing flimsy paper squares that cause them to make strange, loud pronouncements about things called "the 80s" and "the 2010s." From what I can gather, this "Trivial Pursuit" lacks any meaningful pursuit whatsoever—there are no feathers to chase, no strings to bat, no red dots to hunt into madness. However, the portable, "cards-only" nature means the humans are not cluttering a prime napping spot on the dining room table with a useless board. The small boxes themselves might possess a certain satisfying skitter-potential if batted with sufficient force across the hardwood floor. Ultimately, it seems designed to keep the loud giants occupied, which can, on occasion, be a service in itself.
Key Features
- TRIVIA THROUGH THE DECADES: This Trivial Pursuit Game Mini Packs Multipack includes 4 different game packs, giving you 4 decades of trivia questions from the 80s, 90s, 2000s, and 2010s
- TAKE IT TO GO: Because each pack includes cards only, they're great games for parties, road trips, and camping -- you don't need a table or a lot of space to play. Each game is for 2 or more players
- QUICK AND EASY GAMES: With each of these fun trivia games, if a player answers the question correctly, they keep the trivia card -- it just takes 5 cards to win
- FUN TRIVIA QUESTIONS: Do you remember events, trends, fads, entertainment, and more from years past. Each pack includes 80 cards, and features 240 engaging and fun questions about a different decade
- TRIVIA GAMES FOR ADULTS AND TEENS: The Trivial Pursuit Mini Pack Multipack includes 4 games are great for teens and adults ages 16 and up who love trivia and quiz games about pop culture
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The air in the living room grew thick with a peculiar energy. My human and her companions huddled around the coffee table, not with food, but with these four peculiar, brightly colored rectangles from a company called Hasbro. They spoke in hushed, reverent tones about "the 90s," their eyes glazing over with a strange nostalgia. I watched from my perch on the armchair, my tail twitching. They weren't eating. They weren't petting me. They were... communing with these paper relics. I deduced these were not mere games, but containers of concentrated memory, time itself captured on cardstock. My human selected the blue box, the one marked "2000s," and read a question aloud. "What was the name of the social networking site launched by Tom Anderson?" A collective gasp filled the room. It was as if she had uttered a sacred incantation. They were channeling spirits of the past. I had to understand this power. More importantly, I had to possess it. I recalled a glorious afternoon in, by my estimation, 2017. A sunbeam of unparalleled warmth had graced the exact center of the rug, and a tin of the finest salmon paté had been left, foolishly, on the counter's edge. If I could harness the power of the "2010s" box, perhaps I could relive that perfect moment. While they were distracted by a heated debate about something called a "flip phone," I made my move. A silent, fluid leap carried me from the chair to the table, a gray-and-white shadow on a mission. My paw shot out, intending to hook the coveted purple "2010s" box. But my aim was slightly off. My claws snagged the entire multipack sleeve, and the four little boxes cascaded onto the floor, scattering like startled mice. The humans shrieked, but not in terror. In amusement. My plan was in ruins. They laughed, the simpletons, entirely missing the gravity of my temporal experiment. My human scooped up the empty boxes—the potent memory-cards having spilled out—and slid the blue one across the polished wood. It shot away, skittering and tumbling with a delightful clatter. I froze, my grand ambitions forgotten, replaced by a much more primal instinct. I crouched, my hindquarters wiggling. The box came to a rest near the leg of the sofa. It wasn't a vessel for time travel. It was a perfectly weighted, exquisitely balanced floor-hockey puck. A much, much better invention. The cards were worthless trivia, but the packaging? The packaging was genius.
