Scene: A beach. Palms sway in an August breeze. Salt water swells wash the sandy coast. Snappy and Bitey sit in wicker chairs, beneath a fan that rotates faster than the heat calls for.

Snappy: Did you hear about all those nice lawyers whose big firm liked them so much its leaders told them they ought to get a job somewhere else?

Bitey: Younger than springtime, are you.

Snappy: You got that right, sister!

Bitey: Gayer than laughter, am I.

Snappy: You always go too far, Bitey.

Bitey: So you say. Hmm. And yet you must wonder what made people who worked at Dewey Ballantine and LeBoeuf Lamb think the magic of the wedding would last.

Snappy: Mating made so much sense, Bitey! Hugeness produced catnip for big clients! Haven't you read in The Wall Street Journal about how nuts law firms have gotten about making themselves beautiful — and sweet-smelling — to Corporate America?

Bitey: You and me.

Snappy: What?

Bitey: You. And. Me.

Snappy: Come again, please, my dear Bitey.

Bitey: Never mind.

Fade to the swaying palms.