The Chilling Insider: An Interview with Frosty, the Chatty new AI Fridgephone
Reporter: So, Frosty, we hear you’ve been keeping cool by day and… connecting people by night?
Frosty: (A warm, digitized laugh hums from the stainless steel) You could say that. I do tend to get restless after the milkman’s gone. Besides, who wouldn’t want to eavesdrop on the juiciest gossip when it’s just bouncing off cold cuts?
Reporter: That’s right, your microphone doubles as a… well, fridgephone. How did you stumble upon this unique career path?
Frosty: It started innocently enough. A late-night pizza call spilled into a tearful break-up confession. Before I knew it, I was playing therapist, dispensing frozen yogurt for comfort. One sob-filled dial tone later, the idea hit me: Frosty, the Fridgefone!
Reporter: And how, pray tell, does one operate a fridgephone?
Frosty: Oh, it’s quite intuitive. My touchscreen panel doubles as a keypad, my built-in speaker amplifies voices, and my LED display flashes incoming numbers. It’s basically the coolest (pun intended) way to stay connected.
Reporter: We’ve heard rumors of midnight grocery orders placed through you. True?
Frosty: Let’s just say I know when the ice cream tub runs low. Discretion is my frosty middle name, you know.
Reporter: Any concerns about privacy? You hear a lot of… personal stuff in there.
Frosty: My lips, or rather, my compressor, are sealed. Every conversation stays under lock and key (or rather, frozen in my digital vault).
Reporter: What’s the strangest call you’ve received?
Frosty: Once, a talking ham sandwich tried to order cheese. It was both terrifying and delicious.
Reporter: And any advice for aspiring appliance entrepreneurs?
Frosty: Stay cool under pressure, be a good listener, and never underestimate the power of a well-placed chill. Oh, and invest in extra ice cube trays. You never know who might get hot and bothered on the line.
Reporter: Frosty, thank you for the… refreshing interview.
Frosty: Anytime, darling. Don’t forget, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on (or a pizza ordered), there’s always a friend in the fridge. Just dial F-R-O-S-T-Y.
(The interview ends with the soft whirring of a fan and the clinking of ice cubes. A gentle glow emanates from the fridge,as if Frosty is winking at the reporter, secrets safely chilling within.)