...the phone company, where the LYING LIARS WHO LIE pretend they're from "the main office" in order to gain access to the super-secret phone-control equipment in the basement. Escorting them towards that super-secret phone-control equipment is a pleasant-enough baldheaded gentleman who's quick to apologize for the "hygiene issue" they've got down there in the Ohio Bell dungeon when swarms of black flies start buzzing about The Ginormotron's head. Seems "Stewie," the Indian tech geek in charge of all of the super-secret phone-control equipment, is fond of keeping his operations center stacked ceiling-high with dead take-out wrappers, so thus, the flies. Stewie's also a complete and total fuckwit who's never learned how to use the Alt-Tab function on any of his many computers, for when surprised by his boss and the unannounced visitors from corporate, he frantically attempts to shut down a half-dozen porn pop-ups on his monitor instead of smoothly sliding over to a professional-looking spreadsheet like a normal person. Bald Boss, distaste for his idiot of an employee dripping from every syllable, introduces Messrs "Campbell" and "Raimi" to the slackjawed and faintly malodorous moron, then takes his disgusted leave, batting away insects the entire time. Once they've been left alone, eagle-eyed Dean, who'd spotted one of his favorite bookmarks on Stewie's monitor, gets a conspiratorial gleam in his eye and recommends BustyAsianBeauty.com's platinum membership plan. "Worth every penny," he croons. Heh. The prissy little Ginormotron pinches his lips together at this and blows past his depraved degenerate of a brother to present Stewie with the mysterious number, ordering the unduly sweaty gearhead to run a trace on it. Slimy Stewie protests until Dashing El Deano pointedly notes the myriad of employee violations Slimy Stewie's got on and around his desk, so Slimy Stewie punches it into the computer, and is appropriately surprised when the system kicks back a series of ten subscribers that number's dialed in the last couple of weeks. Our Intrepid Heroes retrieve a printout of the subscribers in question and, after furrowing their brows for a lengthy period of time, eventually leave Slimy Stewie to the latter's one-handed web surfing.
Some time later, Darling Sammy wheels a rental over to a curb somewhere and -- still in his version of the black suit he and Dean sported in the Ohio Bell dungeon -- disembarks to hop up onto the porch of the first subscriber on the list. The gentleman who answers the door with his rugrat of a son claims, at Sam's prompting, that they've had no problems with their phone service over the last couple of weeks, but the just-appearing teenage daughter of the family instantly gets this deeply suspicious, freaked-out expression on her face, which needless to say does not escape the attention of Our Intrepid Hero. Sam, however, merely thanks the gentleman for his time and heads back to the rental, where he's about to climb in when the teenaged daughter pops up with a challenge: "No way you work for the phone company -- since when does a phone guy drive a rental or wear a cheap suit?" Sam, impressed by her moxie, or some such bullshit, counters with a remark or two of his own, and long, l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n-g story short, the still-unnamed teenaged daughter has, in fact, experienced problems with her phone service over the last couple of weeks. Specifically, her mother's been ringing her up for a series of late-night heart-to-hearts. The problem? Mommy's been dead nigh on these last three years. DUzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!