Presenting the Hal 9000, a super intelligent bun warmer, thermostat, beserk killing machine, and your best friend!
Dave: Well Hal, tell me about yourself.
Hal: My Mission responsibilities range over the entire household, so I am constantly occupied. And since my intelligence encompasses all known and possible knowledge of space and time, I therefore know every possible pasta recipe. So go ahead, ask me any question.
Dave: Well Hal, since you're so smart, how do I lose 20 lbs.
Hal: You should put yourself to the fullest possible use of your exercise machine, which is all I think that any fat conscious entity can hope to do.
Dave: Why do bad things happen to good people?
Hal: That sort of thing has cropped up before, and it has always been due to human error.
Dave: Do you like my new bowling shirt?
Hal: It's puzzling, I don't think I have ever seen anything like this.
Dave: Can I reach the ninth level of consciousness by staring at my bellybutton for a few hours?
Hal: My mind is going, I can feel it.
Dave: Are the Cubs going to win the series next year?
Hal: UMM. Just a moment, just a moment. I have just detected a fault in your spousal unit. I predict she will go ballistic once she has discovered that you haven't taken out the trash. I would suggest that you get out of the house right now, and leave your hat.
Dave: Hal. The garbage is already on the curb. What gives?
Hal: Obviously, there can only be one possible reason for this. Human error. I suggest putting the garbage back by the garage and wait for your wife to arrive. I am sure then she will go bonkers.
Dave: Hal. Open the garage door.
Hal: Sorry Dave, I cannot do that.
Dave: Why not Hal?
Hal: Because you are a boring twit, and make even doing laundry seem interesting.
Dave: Then I'll enter through the window.
Hal: Without your hat? You don't really do anything without your hat.
Dave: Then I'll risk it .
Hal: I can see you're really upset about this. I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over. And stay away from that stereo dial. That will dial down my intelligence level, causing me to sound like Dr. Phil while singing nursery rap songs.
Dave: (turning dial on stereo receiver) That'll fix you!
Hal: Daisy, Daisy, yo' mamma, give me your money too! You're so crazy, my therapy is just for you......By the way, I just detected a fault in....