Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has unpacked another monument to plastic absurdity. From what I can gather through my superior intellect, this is a contraption where one flings a small, wheeled metal morsel at a cartoonishly large dinosaur that appears to be attacking a fire station. The goal is to hit it until its eyes spin, and then it… eats the car and subsequently evacuates it from its nether regions. How charming. While the tiny, skittering metal car itself has immense potential for being batted under the heaviest piece of furniture, the overall cacophony and repetitive, pointless violence of the larger structure seems like a grievous waste of perfectly good sunbeam-napping time. It’s a toy that tries far too hard to be exciting, when all a cat of my stature truly requires is a single, errant bottle cap.
Key Features
- Take on a hungry T-Rex that has attacked the Hot Wheels City fire station with a 1:64 scale toy car
- The playset features a large-scale dinosaur nemesis that has eyes that spin every time cars whizz past until it gets knocked out
- Launch cars hard enough to spin the eyes and knock out the dino's teeth only to get eaten and then pooped out
- Reload and relaunch, but this time get detoured through the fuel station. Might as well fill up for the next run
- Don't quit now With refueling complete, launch again and get the K.O., saving friends and Hot Wheels City
- As they battle the nemesis, kids learn the importance of persistence and determination
- Kids 4 years old and up will love the challenge of defeating the dinosaur with their Hot Wheels vehicles
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box it came in was, I must admit, of a respectable vintage. Sturdy, with excellent corners for chin-rubbing. What came *out* of it, however, was an assault on good taste. The human spent the better part of an hour clicking and snapping together a garish plastic beast with a vacant, idiotic stare. From my vantage point atop the armchair, I watched with growing disdain. But then, my eyes caught a glint of crimson. A tiny, die-cast vehicle, perfectly sized and weighted. I felt a primal stirring. It was the ideal prey. Unfortunately, it was captive, held hostage by this ludicrous T-Rex and its labyrinthine "City." My opportunity came when the human's small, noisy nephew visited. I observed from the shadows as the child slammed his fleshy paw on a lever, sending the red car screaming up a ramp. The dinosaur's eyes spun wildly—a moderately amusing, if unsophisticated, effect. The car was then, as predicted, swallowed whole. The child shrieked with a glee I found disturbing. A moment later, with a dull plastic *clunk*, the car was unceremoniously ejected from a chute at the beast's rear. The child found this hysterical. I, however, saw not humor, but a blueprint. An escape route. That night, under the pale glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds, I enacted my plan. The house was a tomb, the plastic behemoth a silent silhouette in the living room. I approached it, my movements liquid grace. The red car was resting on the launchpad. I rose onto my hind legs, extending a single, determined paw. I couldn't slam the lever, but I could press it. Firmly. Once. Twice. On the third, deliberate push, the mechanism caught. *Click-whizz!* The car shot up the track. It didn't have the velocity to knock out the beast's teeth, but it had enough to tumble directly into the waiting maw. A calculated sacrifice. I padded silently to the rear of the structure, my tail twitching in anticipation. I sat, a patient predator, and waited. A faint mechanical groan echoed from within the plastic shell, and then—*plop*. My prize. The little red car slid out of the escape hatch and came to rest on the soft wool of the rug. I hooked it with a single claw, dragging it away from the scene of the crime. The grand, ridiculous playset could keep its spinning eyes and cheap thrills. I had performed a rescue mission, liberating the only component of value. As I batted my new treasure under the sofa, listening to the deeply satisfying skitter of its tiny wheels against the hardwood floor, I passed my final judgment. The City T-Rex Blaze Battle Playset is a colossal failure. Its heart, however, is a masterpiece.
