“What’s your name?” the interviewer asked.
“Robbie.”
“Well, that’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” The metal object replied.
“Robbie is like a friendly version of robot. Are you a robot?”
“No, I’m a grill. Robbie Grill. At your service.”
“How can you serve me?”
“I cook. What would you like me to cook for you?”
“Um,” the interviewer hemmed. “I don’t know. I was here for
an interview. We seem to be sidetracked.”
“Interview?? I’ve never made an interview. What temperature
do you use for that? Turn my dials and we’ll try.”
"No, no. Interview isn’t food. It’s a conversation where I
ask you questions and you answer them.”
“But, I’m a grill. Why would you want to interview me?”
“Well, I look at you and see a face. It seems to me that you
are more human than just an inanimate object. We are having a conversation so I
thought I would learn more about you.”
“I think you’re a flake. I’m a grill. What you think is my
face are my dials, my on button, and my door handle.”
“But there seems to be more too it. Again, we are talking to
each other and your arms look a bit like wings. Can you fly?”
“Buddy, I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but, I’m
a grill. I cook. I don’t fly.”
“But, If you could fly, would you want to? Where would you
go?”
“Anywhere but here. You’re weird. You are talking to a grill
about flying.”
“That robin on your head can fly. Wouldn’t you like to fly
like a bird?” the interviewer persisted.
“OK, let’s say I could fly. Let’s say all this metal, could
just take off and fly through the sky with these tiny side shelves you think
are wings. I would only fly on sunny days when there are big puffy white clouds
in the sky. Those are the prettiest days. Then I would fly around the
neighborhood and call to all the other grills and get them to fly along with
me. We’d take over the skies. Zip around here and there. We’d race birds and
airplanes. We’d get to see the world from a whole new viewpoint. Then, when we
run out of propane, we would come back to land and hang out waiting for more
propane.”
“Really, so you would like to fly?”
“No buddy, I’m a grill. I cook.”
 |
| Standing in the yard, staring back at the house with two dial eyes, a little button nose, and mouth turned on its side. Arms out at 90 degree angles, a brush in one hand. Waiting, ready and willing. |
