Art, Art, Art, dear, dear Art, please don't think I'm trying to pry... [seizes Art by his sterile mask] ...but what the hell are you doing?
AArt
I got a work order here to fumigate the entire building. We've got a problem with termites.
How big a problem?
[Everyone looks up at a loud creaking noise from the ceiling, which collapses, dumping an entire desk onto the courtroom floor, along with its shell-shocked occupant.]
AAssistant
[into his phone] I, uh... I'll have to get back to you, Mac.
[at his desk, into his own phone] I understand.
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