Turnpike. Cigar smoke. Pizzaland.
Christopher sits at a table with a red checkered tablecloth and a cup of coffee on it. In a mural on the wall behind him, a pig nurses her piglets. Slowly, Christopher raises the cup to his lips while staring at a meat grinder behind the counter; in voice-over, a man says, "In the Czech Republic too we love pork -- you ever had our sausages?" A woman's voice begins singing. Christopher gets out of his chair in Dream Sequence Slo-Mo as the man's voice repeats the line about sausages, and he seems to move without walking through the deli and all the way back to the freezer, where he finds Adriana sitting on the ground all dressed in white; a man's hand feeds her an entire sausage. "Adriana," he reproaches her, but when we cut back to her, it's Carmela, also in white, chewing a bite of sausage. Again with the sausages in VO. Christopher looks out the window to see a zombie-like man staring in at him, and says, "E-mail Kolar." (Heh. It's actually "Emil"; Christopher killed him in an earlier episode.) Now Christopher's behind the counter of Satriale's, wearing a bloody apron. "Help you?" he says. Zombie Emil Kolar asks for a "salami sub, hold the mayo." A wind blows through the store. "We're outta mayo," Christopher tells ZEK, reaching under the counter for a sub roll. "Change my meat to Black Forest," ZEK drones. The man's hand passes Christopher a few slices of Black Forest ham, and then what looks like provolone, and Christopher slaps the cold cuts into the roll. ZEK: "You killed me." Christopher, impatiently: "What do you want me to do about it now?" "I want to tell you." "Tell me what? You come here every night." ZEK drones that "you fucked up." Christopher doesn't get it. ZEK dumps a handful of mangled bullets onto the counter. Christopher asks where he found the bullets. "One in the table, three in my skull," ZEK says, and adds, "You will have our sausages," and Christopher ducks behind the counter and tells the man's hand, "Get rid a these," and he hands the, uh, hand the bullets. Instead of taking them, the hand grabs Christopher's wrist, and Christopher starts yelling, "Let go a me! Let go!"
Christopher sits up in bed, sweaty, and checks to see that Adriana's still sleeping.
A wedding. Christopher dumps a computer in the bride's lap and apologizes for not wrapping it, but recommends the model of CPU highly to her. Adriana, wearing a loud red print dress, stands behind him, smiling faintly. The bride makes a "whatever" face in the direction of the groom.
Elsewhere in the receiving line, Larry Boy Barese compliments Carmela, telling her she's "looking gorgeous -- who's your date?" Carmela is wearing a lovely cream-colored belted suit, but her hair looks like an electrocuted meringue. Behind her, Tony hugs Larry Boy and congratulates him; it's Larry Boy's daughter's wedding, it seems. Livia is in line, and Larry Boy greets her as "my darling," causing Livia to sniff that "I am nobody's darling." No argument here. Larry Boy makes an "okay, then" face and says of Livia that "this one here, she never disappoints you, I'll tell ya that," but Livia cuts him off at the knees: "Are you still seeing your other women, Lorenzo?" Carmela drags her away. Tony apologizes for Livia, but Larry Boy has other things on his mind: "I heard some disturbing shit last night, I wanted to talk to you about it, but what with the rehearsal dinner and everything, I -- there's the priest, I'll be right back." Tony tells him to go ahead, and he folds his lips and goes to find Carmela and Livia.
A spoon tapping a champagne flute. The bride and groom kiss, and the wedding guests whoop and applaud.
Under a chandelier, Paulie (yay, he's back!) stands very close to Larry Boy and mutters, "Federal indictments? Where the fuck'd ya get this?" Larry Boy says that "a guy who owes" him has a girlfriend who works as a word processor at FBI headquarters. Paulie asks when it's coming down, but Larry Boy doesn't know yet, but when the girl hears, "she'll tell [him]."
Now Larry Boy's in conference with Tony and Pussy. Tony crabs, "Indictments? What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Pussy asks if he's sure, and Larry Boy makes a "don't shoot the messenger gesture" with his hands and warns them, "Hey, it ain't just my source in Jersey -- half of New York moved to Fort Lauderdale already." Tony and Pussy exchange an "oh, shit" look.
"Turn The Beat Around" plays in the background as Christopher mutters to Jimmy Altieri, "Fuck. They're gonna want my ass." Jimmy asks why. "What do you mean, 'why'? I'm O.C.," Christopher tells him testily. Jimmy, skeptically: "When'd you get your fuckin' wings?" Grudgingly, Christopher admits, "I didn't," adding a defensive "not yet, anyway." Jimmy nods.
Tony asks Junior if he has anything he wants to say "about this." The camera circles the group as Junior lectures them that they all get too panicky at the mention of indictments and always want to "lam it," and as far as he's concerned, "it's just speculation." "It's rumor," Mikey pipes up. Shut up, Mikey. And what's with the brown-on-brown ensemble? Poofy Poofatelli really needs to step away from the earth tones. Curto thinks it's "better [to] be safe than sorry, though -- I say we duck for awhile," but Junior doesn't agree: "And what're we gonna do -- close shop?" "We can't do that," Silvio says. Curto asks Tony what he thinks, and of course Junior gets his back up and demands to know why Curto's asking Tony when "I just -- I just gave you the answer!" Tony quickly says that "Junior's right -- we go on the lam now, it's open season, the fucking Albanians'll be livin' in our houses." Pussy complains that he just gave a thousand dollars to Larry Boy's daughter, but if he thought he'd have to lam it, he'd have given it to her later.
Adriana and Meadow on the dance floor.
The groom hands Pussy the gift bag; Pussy takes his thousand dollars back. The bride rolls her eyes.
Tony reminds the group that Junior calls the shots, and what he says, they do, but then he adds as diplomatically as he can that "maybe, you know, for today," everyone should do "a little spring cleaning." Mikey shakes his head; Junior prickles, "That was my comment."
The wedding band plays "Summer Wind." The various boys take champagne glasses out of their wives' hands, pull them out of conversations, and herd them out. Carmela comforts the crying bride as people stream out of the reception.
At home, Carmela helps Tony gather weapons and cash from hiding places. She asks if he thinks they'd really "come over the weekend." "They're comin' someday," Tony says shortly, getting up on a stepladder to pull stacks of bills out of a heating vent. He passes Carmela bills to put into a gym bag and asks, "Where's the rest of the money?" "It's everywhere," she shrugs. Tony asks if she can think of "anything else." She asks about his phone numbers; he tells her that "anybody's who anybody is in my head." Tony looks down from the ladder to see her wiping her eyes. "What'sa matter?" "Nothing, just -- here we go," she says, sounding tired as she takes guns out of his hands and puts them in the bag. Tony bitches that this had to happen "just when things were goin' good." Meadow watches from the stairs, then runs up to her room.
AJ is once again hopping around on his bed, this time with a fly swatter. Can they not put screens on the windows in his room? Always with the bugs, that one. Meadow comes to the door and tells him to go to his computer, "the cops are coming." "So?" "You want them to see all that porno you downloaded?" AJ dashes over to his computer and logs on.
Tony hands down a rifle with a sight on it and gets down from the ladder. He wipes his face, then says, "All right, you better give me your jewelry." Carmela stares at him, then mutters, "Ah, Jesus," and starts taking her earrings off. He reminds her that they can't show the cops receipts: "You want 'em stealin' this shit from us?" She hands over her earrings and necklaces; he gestures at her hand and says, "C'mon." Carmela's eyes widen: "I'm not giving you my engagement ring -- this isn't stolen." Blank stare from Tony. Carmela, angrily: "Is it?" After a beat, he says, "No. What do you think I am?"
In Pussy's backyard, he and his wife burn things on the grill. A helicopter flies overhead.
Christopher's apartment. He taps away on a laptop; cut to the screen, which shows a few lines -- riddled with spelling errors -- from a screenplay. Christopher accidentally erases the lines, and he taps the enter button impatiently, only to hear the Apple error "meep." He calls out to Adriana that "it ate my whole script now," and she comes out and makes the laptop meep a few more times before telling him that he's still in the file but must have deleted the text. He curses and smacks the computer and calls it a fucking asshole, and Adriana shouts at him to "stop with the hysteria, would you please?" and says that if he doesn't stop acting like a baby, she won't help him. Christopher reminds her that at least she works on a computer at the restaurant. Adriana caves, and in a few keystrokes, she gets the text back, telling him that he put it in buffer memory by mistake. "What do you think?" he asks. "Of the script?" she says reluctantly. He nods. She says she can't give him an opinion every time he adds a sentence: "I've gotta have the whole story flow. Woo woo." Okay, so she didn't say "woo woo" -- more's the pity. Christopher says that he's "startin' with the dialogue." Adriana curls up to him and reads what he has so far, and she cracks on him for spelling the word "managed" with a "u," and he rolls his eyes and corrects it, and she hugs him and gives him a kiss and calls him her Tennessee Williams; she starts to get up, but he pulls her back down to the couch and they smooch. Adriana says that she's never seen him apply himself "like this." Christopher answers sort of impatiently that "I love movies. You know that. That smell in Blockbuster, that candy-and-carpet smell, I get high off of," and he doesn't want to waste that. He goes on to say that his cousin Gregory's girlfriend who works for Tarantino said that "Mob stories are always hot. I could make my mark." Adriana suggests that, "with these indictments," maybe Christopher should put the script away for awhile and concentrate on getting rid of evidence instead. He gestures around the apartment with a shrug: "Travel light. Free bird." Adriana reminds him that he stole "this computer, plus the one you just gave Melissa." Ouch.
Just then, the phone rings, and Christopher dumps Adriana out of his lap to answer it with a curt "I'm writing." It's Georgie from Bada Bing, telling Christopher to turn on Channel 6. Christopher relays this to Adriana, who flips the TV on; a talking head says that the attorney general has impaneled a grand jury on possible Mob activity in New Jersey, "with indictments to follow." The talking head introduces the author of the book called Mafia: America's Longest-Running Soap Opera, Jeffrey Wernick. Christopher looks tense.
Quick cut to Melfi, staring fascinated at her TV.
Cut back to the talking head with Wernick. TH asks Wernick about the FBI's contention that the Mob is "all but dead," and Wernick says that he "wouldn't call the fight" just yet; pan out to Tony and Carmela watching the broadcast. TH lists some of the possible counts of the indictments -- murder, drug trafficking, money laundering, the usual -- and asks if Wernick knows any names. Wernick says that he can't say for sure, but with the recent death of Jackie Aprile, his sources tell him that Corrado "Junior" Soprano took over, and the Sopranos have "long historic ties" to the New York families. Tony sips a Scotch and looks over at Carmela as TH asks about possible murder charges.
Adriana has her feet in Christopher's lap as Wernick says that the indictments will probably focus on the unsolved murder of Brendan Filone, and Adriana and Christopher exchange a "the hell?" look, and Christopher complains that Wernick called Brendan an associate: "No one would ever have ranked him as 'associate.'" Wernick goes on to call Brendan a loyal soldier, and Christopher snaps off the TV in a fit of pique: "'Brendan Filone, associate, soldier'? Fuck you!" He throws the remote into a corner. "Jesus!" Adriana whines. Christopher grabs the phone and calls the club and asks Georgie if he saw the broadcast from the beginning, and "did they mention my name?" The answer is clearly no, because Christopher curtly tells Georgie to "stop the fuckin' chit-chat" and slams down the receiver.
In a dining room, a kid in Buddy Holly glasses calls out, "Nobody makes ginzo gravy like you, Nana. I'm up at Bard waiting for my care package." Oh, it's Jason, Melfi's son. Yeah, I've got your care package right here, Sniffy McPhilosophymajor. Melfi comes in and snaps at Jason that she doesn't like "that word." "What, 'ginzo'?" Melfi says that it's offensive, and Nana bustles in with a platter and agrees that it's "not a nice word," and Jason reveals that he doesn't even know what "ginzo" really means. "It's a derivation of 'guinea,'" he's told. Dinner preparations go on, with Jason's grandfather at the head of the table and Melfi's ex-husband Richard milling around; Jason doesn't know what "guinea" means, either. What is he, from Maine? Who doesn't know what "guinea" means? I mean, it's pretty arcane as slurs for "Italian-American" go, but still. Richard tells him that "it's a derogation." Melfi remarks that she has a patient who "you wouldn't want to say 'guinea' in front of." Banter about the patient's mother issues; Nana wants to know why you wouldn't want to say "guinea" in front of this patient: "Is he in the Mafia?" Melfi quickly denies that and asks if they can change the subject. Jason and Richard laugh and ask again if the patient is in the Mob. Melfi yells from the kitchen that "nobody knows better than you, Richard, I can't discuss my patients." Nana hopes it's not one of the guys "on the news." The grandfather suggests that she refer the guy to another doctor, and Richard agrees that she could. Melfi sternly tells her father to grate the Parmesan. She sits down and tells her husband, "That might be what you would do, Richard. Now I remember why we got divorced," and she doesn't see why she should refer him to someone else. Richard points out, "You know you can't treat sociopaths -- he's scum, and you shouldn't help him with his bed-wetting."
Melfi argues that he has no idea what he's talking about, but Richard is on a roll, saying that guys like her patient give Italian-Americans a bad name; Nana agrees with him, and Melfi glares at her. Richard adds that, when asked for their image of Italian-Americans, most other Americans will mention The Godfather, GoodFellas, and pizza. "Good movies to eat pizza by," Jason interjects, and Melfi chastises him (word), adding that she didn't even say that her patient is a gangster. More debating along these lines: why we'll never have an Italian president blah blah blah "blame Hollywood" blah blah blah "the constant portrayal of Italian-Americans as gangsters" blah blah blah Scorsese-cakes. Melfi fumes. Richard says that, at its height, the Mob only had five thousand members, but they cast their shadow over twenty million "hard-working Americans." Jason responds that the Mob movie has become a classic genre of American cinema, "like Westerns." More back-and-forth. The grandfather raises a toast "to we -- the twenty million." Everyone says salut.
Christopher's apartment. He's in front of the laptop again. Another shot of screenplay dialogue, again with horrendous misspellings. The phone rings, and he grabs it; it's Tony, telling him to "get down here right away, we're exterminatin'." In the background, the other guys shoot pool. Christopher whines that he's "kinda busy now," but Tony talks right over him, telling him to pick up sfogliatell' and cannoli "for the guys." "Yeah," Christopher sighs. He hangs up. He throws something.
Bakery. Christopher comes in and takes a little paper number. The counter guy calls out, "Twenty-nine?" and a little old lady walks up. Time-lapse of Christopher drumming his fingers and waiting. Finally, he approaches the counter as a fat guy enters the bakery and starts to order, but the counter guy ignores Christopher and hails the fat guy and offers to take his order. Christopher objects; Counter Guy says Fat Guy "was in line -- he just went to get gas in his car." Christopher complains. Counter Guy "said [Fat Guy] could" jump the line. Christopher tells "Pop'n Fresh" (heh) that he's in "no fuckin' mood," and orders him to get a pastry box and take Christopher's order. Counter Guy stares at him, then asks Fat Guy for his order again. Christopher threatens Counter Guy, Counter Guy says "fuck you" to Christopher, blah dee blah -- long story short, Christopher kicks Fat Guy out of the store and takes out a gun and demands to know if Counter Guy thinks that he "looks like a pussy" or that he's "nothin' to worry about." Counter Guy, terrified by this Dubuque-sized projection of Christopher's insecurities, says that he doesn't think that. Christopher orders him to get a pastry box -- firing a shot into the floor when Counter Guy doesn't move fast enough -- and fill it with cannoli, sfogliatell', and napoleons. Nearly in tears, Counter Guy follows orders. Christopher fires another shot at Counter Guy's feet. Counter Guy, panting with fear, hands over the box, and Christopher takes it and warns him, "time you see my face, show some respect." Counter Guy says he will. Christopher shoots him in the foot, and Counter Guy drops and starts shrieking at Christopher, and Christopher tells him, "Shit happens," turns the sign on the bakery's front door back to "OPEN," and leaves.
Pussy lines up a shot and grouses, "If I'm getting an invitation to the dance, I wish the Feds'd hurry the fuck up about it." "You heard what they're sayin' on the news," Tony snaps. "The way things are workin', it's gonna be Junior's party." Silvio compliments Tony on his "far-thinkin' plan." Christopher storms in with the baked goods. Tony bites off that he called Christopher "last Christmas." Christopher hurls the box onto the table: "Fuck this!" Paulie yells at him for bruising the sfogliatell' and snatches up the box; Silvio asks Christopher what's wrong with him: "You brought up in a barn or what?" Tony puts a hand on the back of Christopher's head and tells him that it's not a good time "to go on the rag, not with the indictment shit goin' down." Oh, that's nice. Tony tells him to go with Georgie and sweep the bathroom for bugs. He walks off; Tony and Paulie watch him intently.
Georgie's on the ground in a bathroom stall with a handheld metal detector. He says he hopes they'll "be all right." "Who?" Christopher grumps. "The guys." "What about me?" Georgie tells him not to worry, "they didn't even mention your name on television." Disgusted, Christopher goes to check the soap dispenser as Georgie babbles on about the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when he heard the words "Brendan Filone." "They made him look like John fuckin' Gotti," Christopher gripes. "I brought him around here. Tony wouldn't ever a known him if it wasn't for me." "Huh," Georgie says amiably, metal-detecting the toilet paper. "I had no idea." Hee hee! Georgie cracks me up.
Green Grove. From afar, we see Carmela get out of the Benz wagon; Tony pulls up in the foreground and honks and gesticulates at Carmela.
Close-up of the paper. Knocking. Livia tells the knocker to get lost. From the hallway: "It's Carmela!" Livia calls to her to come in, and explains that she just didn't want to deal with "that snooty-ass Mrs. Ryan down the hall," whom she goes on to call "shanty Irish" and the usual misanthropic blah blah blah. Carmela cheerily tells her to get dressed, "I'm takin' you to brunch." Livia makes "whuh?" noises and asks what's wrong. Carmela lies that nothing's wrong, why would she think that, relax, why would something be wrong. Livia asks, "Is it Meadow? She eats like a bird," and Carmela continues protesting too much, and Livia says that Carmela came unannounced, so she's worried. Carmela rolls her eyes and snarks, "Jeez, I'm sorry. It's a nice day, I thought I would take you out."
Outside, Tony checks his watch.
"I don't wanna go out," Livia mumbles. Carmela just stands there, smiling brightly. Livia asks if it's Anthony, "those indictments," and she goes on to say that "his father could take it in stride but he can't." Carmela's smile tightens, and she mutters at Livia, "I don't believe you."
Tony stews in the car.
Carmela tries to hurry Livia up. Livia fusses with the bedclothes: "We just went to a wedding." Carmela, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice, says that "that was a big to-do -- this way, we get to spend some quality time together." Livia ignores her. Carmela prods, "The Manor is gonna stop serving brunch any minute." Livia approaches Carmela, her eyes wide: "Did he cheat on you again?" Carmela rolls not just her eyes but her whole head, then objects to Livia's thinking that she has "some other agenda that I have to talk to you about" when she just wants to do something nice for Livia, finishing, "Don't flatter yourself." Duly chastened, Livia agrees to "throw something on." Another eye-roll from Carmela.
Outside, Carmela nags Livia to buckle her seatbelt. Tense music. The Benz wagon pulls away, past the Suburban with Tony lying down out of sight in the front seat. As soon as he sees them go, Tony gets out of the car and grabs a gym bag out of the back.
Inside Livia's apartment, Tony checks the place over, then stashes the contents of the gym bag in a series of sweater bags and hat boxes. More tense music.
"It's not definite, I just -- thought I'd tell you. In case I don't show up for an appointment," Tony tells Melfi. Melfi confirms in a dry tone of voice that he's planning a vacation, "but you're not sure exactly when it will be." "Right," Tony nods, adding as an afterthought, "I may never go." Melfi looks puzzled. Tony says that there's "a strong possibility that it could happen." Melfi closes her eyes for a moment, then decides to go ahead and ask if Tony's vacation has anything to do with "what's been on the news lately." Tony doesn't answer, which Melfi takes as a yes, saying pointedly that if he suddenly stops coming to his appointments, "I will assume that you are…on vacation…and I should wait to be contacted?" "That would be a good assumption," Tony says, not meeting her eye.
Christopher sulks in his apartment. Knocking. "Who is it?" "Paulie. Open the door." Christopher, in an ill-fitting tank top and giant shorts, lets Paulie in, then goes back to the couch and slumps in front of his laptop. Paulie puts out his hands palms up and says, "I thought we were steppin' out." Christopher gestures towards the laptop. "I got two broads in the car," Paulie complains. "You said Ade went to stay at her mother's." Christopher shrugs. Paulie says it's no wonder; the apartment "looks like a fuckin' sty." Word -- dirty clothes and cigarette butts everywhere, dishes piled up on the table. Paulie eyes the still-silent Christopher: "What's wrong with you?" Christopher shakes his head sadly. "Talk to me," Paulie orders him. "This ain't like you, kid." Christopher just shrugs again. Paulie tells him that he ran into Billy Cracchiolo, who told him the Nutley cops "are looking for a guy, blew a kid's toe off for no good reason in Russo's Bakery…drove a Lexus?" Christopher sags on the couch and asks if Tony knows about it. Paulie shakes his head and asks, "What's goin' on, Chrissy?"
Christopher mutters that he's "been working [his] ass off" on the script, and he has nineteen pages so far. "Is that a lot or a little?" Christopher tells Paulie that the books say a screenplay should come in at 120 pages or so, and he thought the computer would help -- Paulie interrupts to ask if he's "bein' frank about the business," and Christopher assures him that he would never do that: "It's only 'suggested by.'" Paulie tries to help by slagging Hemingway: "That writer, with the bullfights? Blew his own head off." "I bought a screenwritin' program and everything," Christopher mopes. Paulie advises him to put the screenplay aside, "we go get our joints copped -- and tomorrow, the words'll come blowin' outcher ass." Wow. I'll have to try that sometime. Christopher asks if Paulie has ever gotten the feeling that nothing good would ever happen. Paulie snorts, "Yeah -- and nothing did. So what? I'm alive, I'm surviving." Christopher doesn't want to just survive, though, and he talks about character arcs for a while, and he asks, "Where's my arc?" and rambles on a bit more about Richard Kimble and The Devil's Advocate, and Paulie sits down and listens patiently while I have a terrifying flashback to Dawson blathering on about his "art," and Christopher asks again, "Where's my arc, Paulie?" Paulie points out that "those are all make-believe," and he doesn't have an arc either -- he grew up, he went into the Army, he spent some time in jail, "and here I am, a half a wiseguy. So what?" "I got no identity," Christopher moans. "Even Brendan Filone's got an identity, he's dead!" He goes on to say that he killed Emil Kolar and he got nothing, he didn't move up at all, "all I got is nightmares" because Kolar visits him in his dreams every night.
Jump cut to Pussy advising Christopher that "that happens," and the more of "them" he does, the less trouble he'll have sleeping. He adds that he had one guy chasing him through his dreams for months. Christopher gestures with his cigarette: "I feel like he's tryin' to tell me somethin', that we fucked up the night that we buried him." Pussy reassures him that they didn't fuck up, but Christopher thinks Kolar's trying to tell him that he's in danger. Pussy asks him why Kolar would want to tell Christopher that he's in danger, "considering that you put a fuckin' moon roof in the back of his head." Christopher asks if they did anything wrong that night, and muses that they couldn't trace the gun back to him; Pussy says, "You know who had an arc? Noah." Christopher waves his hand at him angrily; Pussy cackles around his cigar.
Under a Turnpike overpass. Seagulls caw. Christopher and Georgie, wearing contamination masks, dig Kolar up. Georgie scrapes away some mud and a thin layer of plastic to reveal a face and says, "Augh! Is that him?" "That would be some fucking coincidence if it wasn't, wouldn't it?" Christopher snarks, then groans that Kolar has a beard now, and Georgie says he's read that that happens, and he points at Kolar's fingernails. Christopher sounds sick: "Oh, fuck, they're like a woman's." Georgie runs off to barf. Christopher slings his shovel aside and calls out to Georgie to help him lift Kolar: "We'll take him down the Pine Barrens before they build a fuckin' condo here…Georgie?" The melodious sounds of hurling. Christopher grumbles a few curses under his breath.
Melfi and her ex-husband stand in a field. She doesn't know about selling the property, but Richard says he could "sure use an infusion" if they have to keep supporting Jason after he graduates. Melfi says wistfully that she never saw the place as an investment; she always thought they'd build a house. "So are we gonna sell, or what?" Richard asks. Melfi says she guesses so, and teases him that she doesn't want to hear that he took "one of your Colleens on a cruise." Teasing repartee about Richard's penchant for Irish girls, but it soon sours -- Melfi says Richard married her to have a mother figure, Richard tells her not to bust his balls "with Freud-by-numbers," Melfi tells him his "Calabrese is showing" (whatever that means), he says he's proud of his Italian heritage, she slams him for devoting his energy to caring about Connie Francis with all the other horrible things going on in the world, and then they argue about Melfi's patient, and Richard tells her that, in spite of psychotherapy's "cheesy moral relativism," eventually she'll come to good and evil, "and he's evil." Melfi just stares at him.
Cut to Tony, seething silently to a chain-link fence as a New Jersey Transit commuter train roars past. Pan around him to Christopher's Lexus pulling up. Tony gets in the car, and Christopher starts to apologize for coming late when Tony clouts him in the head. Christopher whines, "Didn't Paulie tell you I ain't been feelin' good?" but Tony shouts, "I wipe my ass with your feelings!" More sniping; Christopher throws it in reverse and peels out. Tony yells, "We're under a microscope and I gotta hear on the street you shot some fuckin' civilian in the foot 'cause he made you wait for buns?" "Fuckin' Paulie," Christopher grumbles, and Tony bellows, "Don't blame fuckin' Paulie!" He keeps yelling, saying that Makazian told him the Nutley police have a description and a make on the car, and why doesn't Christopher just leave a urine sample time? Christopher tries to defend himself, but Tony yells at him to shut up and tells him that he saw Georgie with puke on his shirt, and when he asked Georgie what the fuck, Georgie told him about digging up the body; Christopher interrupts again, and again he's told to shut up: "People do that shit that wanna get caught!" Christopher scoffs, but Tony bitches him out some more about wanting "to be a big bad guy," and Christopher tries to tell him why he dug up the body, but Tony yells for the third time, "Shut up!" Silence for a moment. Christopher sneaks a glance at Tony and asks if he can try to explain. Tony shifts angrily in his seat but doesn't say no, so Christopher says in a broken voice, "I don't know, Tony. It's like just the fuckin' regular-ness of life is too fuckin' hard for me or somethin', I don't -- I don't know." Tony stares at him, then softens a bit and rubs Christopher's head: "Look at you. I bet you're sleepin' all the time, right?" It's the only thing Christopher still enjoys; he thinks maybe he has cancer, like Jackie. Tony snorts. Christopher says that "something horrible's goin' on inside my body, there's a physical change or somethin'." Tony asks how often the word "cancer" pops into Christopher's head. Christopher asks why he wants to know, and Tony says he thinks maybe Christopher's depressed. "Me?" Christopher chuckles. "I'm no mental midget." Tony looks out the window. "Right," he says after a bit, and grabs a cigarette and puts the wrong end between his lips, and Christopher points this out as Tony tries to light the filter. Too late -- Tony swears and stomps it out on the floor of the car.
Another short silence before Tony suggests too-casually that "maybe you got a serotonin problem…or whatever the fuck they call it." Christopher cocks an eyebrow: "You know about that shit?" Tony lies that he saw something about it on TV. Awkwardly, he asks if Christopher ever thinks "about…you know," and he puts his finger in his mouth and makes a trigger-pulling motion. Christopher snorts, "Fuck, no!" "Good," Tony says. Christopher shoots him another curious glance; Tony cracks, "Imagine those fuckin' losers blowin' their skulls all over the bathroom?" They both crack up. Then they both stop cracking up. Christopher eyes Tony suspiciously, then turns back to the road. Tony shoots a surreptitious glance at Christopher.
AJ's playing a video game standing up. Apparently, the Mario Kart embargo has ended. Tony walks by: "Listen, don't you hear the fuckin' doorbell?" "I'm in the middle of a game," AJ shrugs. The doorbell rings again. Tony bitches at AJ to "wise up" and heads for the front door, then hears knocking coming from the side door to the kitchen. He opens the door to find two guys in FBI gear. One of them whips off his government-issue sunglasses and asks officiously, "Anthony Soprano?" "What are you doin' in my backyard?" "The gate was open," the agent says, and introduces himself and his partner and asks if they can come in. "If I say no?" Tony says reluctantly. "If we were local, we wouldn't even a knocked," the agent sniffs. "What's your point?" The agent sighs and says they have a search warrant, but they know he has kids at home, so the team's waiting out front so as not to traumatize the rest of the family "by kicking in doors." He suggests that Tony take a minute to tell the kids "that you have, uh -- visitors." Tony nods and closes the door.
Melfi walks out to the waiting room and opens the door. Pan over to the couch -- no Tony. "Huh," Melfi says, pursing her lips and going back into her office.
Agent Harris feels under couch cushions as Tony looks on; he tells Harris that "any quarters, you can keep." Heh. "Trying to bribe me?" Harris snipes; he crosses the room as Tony suggests that Harris tell him what he's looking for, "maybe I can save you some time," and we see Carmela, Meadow, and AJ standing in a concerned knot in the doorway. "Any incriminating evidence'd be nice," Harris says. Carmela, Meadow, and AJ all turn to look at Tony. Other agents come downstairs with computer equipment, and Meadow whines that they have her computer and she has an English paper. Tony says to Harris, "You gotta be shitting me," and Harris gives him a "just doing my job" shrug, and the kids complain, and then there's a crash and Carmela snarls, "What the hell're they doin' in my kitchen?" and the whole family files in to find a young agent named Grasso standing over a broken bowl of marinara. Sniping; recriminations; snarking about forgotten lunchboxes and how Carmela isn't cleaning up after them. Tony curses Grasso out in Italian and makes an obscene gesture, and Grasso gets pissed off, and Harris has to calm them both down, telling Tony that they'll leave in a few minutes. Carmela herds everyone into the living room to wait it out.
Evening. The family eats Chinese take-out while Tony bitches about the Feds; he knows they have to do their jobs, but he hates the way they act. Carmela remarks that Harris didn't seem so bad, but Tony says that "he's the biggest sneak out of all of 'em" and adds that Grasso broke the bowl on purpose. Carmela doesn't think so, but Tony says they sent that guy just because he's Italian, and he goes on and on about Grasso selling out and getting to the top "by arresting his own people." The rest of the family more or less ignores him, but Tony keeps at it with the Italian pride thing, and AJ gets yelled at for not knowing that Antonio Meucci invented the telephone. Meadow decides she's bided her time long enough, and asks, "Who invented the Mafia?" Tony, incredulously: "What?" "La Cosa Nostra, who invented that?" she asks smugly. "Who cares?" AJ asks, tucking into a short rib. Meadow busts out a little Mafia-timeline science and lists the Five Families with a self-satisfied smile, and Tony sits back and snaps, "Is there something you wanna say to me?" "I just like history -- like you, Dad," Meadow says, sugar dripping from her voice. "Can you 'just' shut the fuck up about it?" AJ tells her. Ha! Go, AJ. "Hey!" Carmela snaps. AJ gives his father a conspiratorial look. Carmela tells him that John Cabot, "famous discoverer of Canada," was Italian. Shout-out to Wing Chun? I think so. More famous and learned Italians…the founder of the Bank of America. Mother Cabrini. Whether the Chinese invented spaghetti. How many Italians fought for the US in World War II. Sacco and Venzetti, innocent men "who got the chair because they were Italian." And, of course, Frank Sinatra. Tony and Carmela share a smile when he mentions The Voice.
Melfi's office. Tony and Melfi dicker over his paying for the missed session, and it devolves into a nasty argument over what if Tony had gotten hit by a car -- "what if," "you weren't," "answer me," "no," blah blah blah fishcakes. Tony stands up, takes up a giant roll of cash, and starts peeling bills off at Melfi; she sits mutely as he rants that "this is what it's all about, right? Motherfuckin' cocksuckin' money -- here!" When the bills have fluttered to the floor, Melfi tells him with only a faint tremor in her voice that she doesn't understand that comment, and she doesn't appreciate "being made to feel afraid." Tony, still on his feet, snarls that he doesn't appreciate feeling like he pours his heart out "to a fuckin' call girl." "Is that how you see me?" "Not until now," he says, and adds that she must not give a shit about him or his situation "or you wouldn't be shakin' me down." She glares at him, then murmurs, "It'll show up as paid on your month's bill." "Fine -- stick it up your ass," he shouts, slamming out of the office. Melfi looks down at her lap.
A truly awful comedian attempts to entertain the "crowd" at Green Grove. In the audience, Livia whispers, "What's the matter with you, Corrado?" "Headaches, that's all," Junior tells her, but "not the kind you take aspirin for." Livia curls her lip. The comedian does a dreadful Ed Sullivan impersonation. Junior confides, "I think we may have a bad apple." "Does Tony know about this?" Livia asks, leaning closer to him. Junior nods. "What're you gonna do?" Junior says they can't do much, "we have to sit back and wait," and tells her not to let Tony know she knows: "He's under a lotta pressure." Livia laughs mirthlessly, then wheezes, "I'm sure he's telling his psychiatrist it's all his mother's fault." The comedian starts in with the harmonica. Junior straightens up in his chair: "What're you talkin' about, a psychiatrist?" Livia knowingly says that yeah, Tony's "been seeing one for a while now." Junior starts to get The Junior Look Of Sudden Fury as Livia grumbles, "God only knows what he says," but Junior can't believe his ears: "Tony?" "Yes, Tony! Tony, who had such a terrible mother," Livia grumps sarcastically. "A psychiatrist?" Junior repeats. "Yeeees, Junior, for Christ's sake!" Livia says impatiently. More non-humor from the "comedian." Back to Junior asking, "Who? The psychiatrist, I mean." "You think I know?" Livia whispers. Junior asks what she said to Tony about it, and she says she didn't say anything because she didn't want "to give him the satisfaction." She warns Junior that she doesn't want there "to be any repercussions." Junior stares at her, then asks yet again, "A psychiatrist?" "You're a broken record," Livia sneers at him, asking how many times she has to say it, and a woman in front of them shushes her. The comedian makes a "joke" about Ellis Island. Junior looks shaken.
Christopher's in bed when the phone rings. The machine picks it up, and his mother -- who has a smoker's rasp to rival Kim Carnes -- drones for him to pick up, she's worried about him. Christopher puts a pillow over his head. His mother goes on to say that she heard from Mrs. Jones that the Star-Ledger mentioned his name today in an article "with all those scumbags," and Christopher whips the pillow off of his head and springs out of bed.
"It's been awhile since we met for therapy," an older man with a terrible dark dye job says. "Jason -- how's Bard?" Pan over to Melfi, Jason, and Richard sitting on the other side of the man's desk. Jason, sporting a fug-tastic sweater vest, volunteers that he's moving into a smoke-free dorm. "And how do we feel about that?" grunts the doctor. "I'm more interested in discussing what we mentioned before," Richard says impatiently, so the doctor asks how Jason feels about Melfi treating "this Patient X." Jason smiles that he really doesn't care. Why do they still come to family therapy, anyway? The kid's in college, the parents got divorced -- cut the cord already. The doctor suggests, "as a colleague," that she drop the patient. Melfi doesn't answer; Richard mentions that, after a recent session, Melfi had to acknowledge that she'd seen the "sub-human" side of Tony. "I take it you were…frightened?" the doctor asks. Melfi admits to feeling "frightened, revolted," and Richard snipes, "At long last, appropriate emotions." "Oh, for chrissake, Richard," she grumbles, and to the doctor, "you too, Sam. When did we become so afraid to get our hands dirty?"
Jason points out to his father that "it's what she gets paid for," and Richard asks, "Jason, how would you like to see your mother -- never mind, I'm not gonna paint any graphic images." "See, he always does that," Jason smirks. Sam urges him to "follow that up, Jase. Dad does what?" Oh, brother. Melfi complains that Richard objects to her treating the patient "on the grounds of [sic] the stigma he brings us." Richard glares at her. Sam says that she should refer the patient to a therapist who specializes in Mafia depression, and giggles at his own joke. Jason stares at him uncomprehendingly. Melfi shoots Richard a worried look. Richard chides Sam that "this isn't funny." "No, of course not," Sam says, composing himself. "It's a real personal and professional dilemma." Then he says that "on my mother's side, we have a few dark sheep." Richard, still not amused: "Excuse me?" "Lepke," Sam says with great portent. Jason looks from one parent to another, then asks, "Who's Lepke?" Sam explains that he means Louis Lepke Buchalter: "You know -- Murder Incorporated?" The whole family stares at Sam as he relates proudly that his mother's uncle used to work as Lepke's driver. Richard grunts, "Huh?" "Those were some tough Jews," Sam chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows. The family keeps giving Sam a collective "whaaaaaaaat?" look.
Christopher's Lexus pulls up across the street from a church, and Christopher jumps out, runs to a Star-Ledger dispenser box, puts in money, yanks out a paper, and leafs through it to find his name. Close-up on the word "Moltisanti." Christopher grins happily, puts in more money, and takes the whole stack of papers out and runs back to the car with it. The song in the background mentions Frank Sinatra, and Christopher peels out of the parking space as we go to credits.