“Honey, I am home.”

*kiss*

“How was the interview?”

“smooch*

“Well, they offered me the position and they catered to my requirement for a yellow ball, but they would not budge on nixing the verbunkos for the set’s music.”

“They did not like your suggestion of Jamiroquai?”

“No, and I even offered two bucketfuls of those shiny anchovies–the ones only available Sunday from midnight to three–to please play any other tunes, but they were not venal.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that. I know that Hungarian style invokes regurgitation in you, but those silvery ones are too special to give away. So what did you say?”

“I told them I would think about it, but I feel like I need to find a way to impress the impresario enough that they would be willing to change the accompaniment. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Hmmm. Well, let us talk this through as we sipple the evening’s sea. Dolphins seem to hold quite a bit of clout with human folk, so maybe you could pick of some flipper tricks from them; that might be enough to influence.”

“Yes! Yes! That is a great idea! I will collaborate with dolphins, elaborate with humans, and celebrate when I get the job that meets both my needs and standards.”

“You are such a sea-weet lion.”

*smack*

*You are such a wise wife.”

*mmmmmm*

“Let us go to beach now.”

“That is a swimmingly splendid idea.” ; )