Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has procured this... *contraption* from a company called Mattel. I believe they are primarily known for creating stiff, plastic effigies of humans with perpetually cheerful expressions. This "Toss Across" appears to be their attempt at a more dynamic form of entertainment. It is, from what I can gather, a vertical grid of spinning squares where the large, clumsy ones throw small, squishy sacks in a pathetic attempt to create a line of symbols. The entire affair seems dreadfully loud and pointless. The only feature of remote interest are the bean bags themselves, which appear to be perfectly sized for a thorough batting and, if the mood strikes, a ceremonial "disemboweling" to see what secrets they hold. The plastic frame is an eyesore, but the projectiles might just salvage the experience.
Key Features
- We took classic Tic Tac Toe and added some action!
- Place the Toss Across unit on a floor, turn all targets blank side up, grab your three bean bags, and get ready to toss!
- Players try to get the rotating triangles to flip to show either X or O. Three in a row wins!
- Toss Across is lots of fun and even helps develop hand-eye coordination. Fun for children and the whole family.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a box that smelled of distant factories and disappointment. My human, with the frantic energy he reserves for new acquisitions, tore it open and assembled the garish blue and red grid on the living room floor. It stood there like a monument to poor taste. He and his mate then began the ritual, flinging the little red and blue sacks with all the grace of a falling bookshelf. *Thwack.* A panel spun from blank to 'X'. *Thud.* A bag missed entirely, skittering sadly under the coffee table. I watched from my throne atop the velvet armchair, my tail giving a slow, judgmental twitch. They were missing the entire point. One of the blue bean bags, poorly thrown, landed just shy of my perch. An offering, perhaps? An apology for the cacophony? I descended with the silent dignity befitting my station. I did not pounce. Pouncing is for amateurs. I approached it, circling once, absorbing its essence. It had a pleasing, slightly coarse texture and a definite heft. The humans paused their game, their faces turning towards me with those dopey, expectant grins. "Oh, look! Pete wants to play!" one of them cooed. How little they understand. I was not there to "play" their juvenile game. I was there to conduct a rigorous analysis. I extended a single, perfectly manicured claw and gently hooked the fabric. I dragged the bean bag slowly, testing its weight and friction against the wood floor. Then, with a sudden, fluid motion, I batted it. Not a wild flail like my human's, but a calculated, precise strike. The bag flew in a low, perfect arc, striking the leg of the plastic grid with a satisfying *tonk*. It didn't flip a panel, nor was it meant to. It was a demonstration of superior form, of physics understood and elegantly applied. I looked back at them, expecting a glimmer of comprehension. They merely laughed and retrieved the bag. My lesson was utterly lost on them. Very well. If they could not appreciate the art of the toss, they were unworthy of the tools. While they were distracted by another clumsy throw, I seized the blue bag in my mouth—a worthy trophy—and trotted purposefully toward the hallway. They could have their clattering plastic frame and their pointless symbols. I had what truly mattered: a new, perfectly weighted object for my own solitary, far more sophisticated games of "hide the prey under the expensive rug." The product is a failure as a whole, but one of its components has passed my inspection. It will do.
