Next door, the FBI is moving in on the Soprano property with binoculars and a parabolic mic. They watch Tony eating what they think are "Sugar Pops." Tony strikes me as more of an Apple Jacks kind of guy. Given my luck with the whole Steely Dan thing, he'll probably be eating them straight out of the box next week. What's with the newfangled green ones, by the way? Inside, Tony is getting more bad news about Parisi from the suddenly ubiquitous Gigi Cestone, or, as I like to call him, The Poor Man's Pussy. Seeing the maid in the living room, Tony leads Gigi down into the as yet un-bugged basement.

Meanwhile, the Feds are outside, watching as Patsy Parisi approaches the Soprano house. He pulls out a pistol, and points it through the window at Tony. The Feds get nervous, and wonder how they should handle this surprising turn of events. Before he can pull the trigger, however, Parisi breaks down in tears. He considers shooting himself for a minute, but then decided to exact revenge in the most disgusting way possible: he pees in the Sopranos' pool. Looks like I'm not the only one who's taken the "Piss Boy" jokes way beyond their logical extreme. "I don't understand this at all," says an agent. Dude, just go with the flow.

Back at FBI Headquarters, they've finally discovered that the water heater is broken. There's some discussion about Tony's plumber, Mr. Ruggerio. One of the agents refers to it as "Mr. Ruggerio's neighborhood," and folks, we have a title (tm Strega). We also have an opportunity for me to point out yet another pointless detail about my life: I actually live in Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood (the studios are about half a mile from my apartment). They go on to remind themselves (and presumably the viewers as well) about how important this basement bug will be. They've had Tony's phone bugged for four years, but the guy "says less than Harpo Marx," so it's critical the bug be placed the next Tuesday.

It's the big day. Tony and Furio emerge from the driveway and pass the agent, giving him the finger. "They made us," he complains. And you're just noticing this now? The FBI moves in on the now-empty house. They cut the wires and head inside. Cut to the maid and her husband in the park. More arguing about citizenship and how things were better back in the old country. She gets up to leave, which forces the agent tailing her into action. He runs up and starts to quiz her about the language school, desperately trying to stall her. Eventually the husband comes over. They discuss the fact that everyone is Polish, and the agent mentions that his grandparents were Polish. So were mine. Shout-out? Back at the Soprano compound, or "sausage factory" as the FBI likes to call it, the agents are hard at work.