Paramount and Skydance have reportedly waltzed into the M&A ballroom, dipped Warner Bros. Discovery, and whispered, “May I have this intellectual property?” Analysts nodded, because analysts are paid to nod until numbers appear. The numbers did not appear, but a very confident spreadsheet did.

The pitch is simple: merge the studio that owns the cowboy soap opera with the studio that owns the billionaire bat and invent a streaming service that comes pre-buffering. In underwriting, bankers are replacing the word “synergy” with “destiny,” because at this point even they want a new drinking game.

On the investor call, executives promised a “flywheel,” a “moat,” and something called a “franchise corn maze.” One slide claimed the combined company would “optimize vertical integration,” which is how you pronounce “we will stack our problems and call it a tower.”

Wall Street reacted responsibly by doing cartwheels through a revolving door. Shares briefly soared, briefly cratered, and then found equilibrium in a yoga pose named after a discontinued bundle.

Corporate sources said the merger could streamline costs by consolidating three bat signals into one, letting Batman rent out the daylight hours to Yellowstone. Scooby-Doo will now solve the mystery of why everything is behind a paywall, with Shaggy cutting $500 million from craft services by replacing snacks with vibes.

In a decisive show of fiscal discipline, the board reportedly set a strict budget for the deal and immediately exceeded it during the buffet at due diligence. Junior bankers, refreshed and terrified, Googled executive synergy KPI dartboard while updating a slide titled, “Oh Wow, Content Really Is King.”

Regulators, who moonlight as theater critics, will review the transaction by watching 600 hours of content at 1.5x speed. If their eyes glaze over before the third gritty reboot of Fred Flintstone, the merger is approved by default.

Culturally, the union promises crossover hits such as The Dark Knight Rides Again And This Time It’s On A Horse. Aquaman will be reimagined as a Warner water-park lifeguard, and Succession will be rebooted as a 12-minute TikTok in which the board replaces itself with an algorithm that cries.

Employees are bracing for synergies spelled R-I-F. HR has prepared a care package containing an FAQ, a commemorative stress koosh, and the unexpectedly comfy antitrust hearing travel neck pillow. Middle managers will be consolidated into a single hive mind named “Chad, SVP of Everywhere.”

Bankers have assigned a valuation based on discounted cash flows and the resale price of capes. The fairness opinion, drafted in crayon at 3 a.m., concludes the deal is “vibes-positive” and “unlikely to be haunted by the ghost of Quibi, probably.”

Streaming users were promised one app to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them to a new password policy where the password must contain a rune, a plot twist, and two unannounced cameos. To celebrate, the app will auto-renew before you even download it, a feature described as “proactive monetization of free will.”

As for me, I’ll translate the earnings call when the fog machine cools and the executive metaphors return from their wellness retreat. Until then, I’m keeping a raised eyebrow and a jar for every time someone says “transformative”—because at this pace, the synergy jar might actually finance the deal.