Anyway, Christopher wins the fish fight and turns around with a really smug look at his monkey boys. "Serve some booze, empty ashtrays, and whatever you do don't engage Silvio in conversation -- he can be a sick fuck when he's gambling," he advises them. Christopher begins telling an anecdote regarding Silvio's mental instability: once he was down fifty large, he sneezed, a guy named Fritzi said salut. Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale interrupts to ask if it's the Fritzi Neste from Hoboken, Christopher asks if he knows him, Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale says no, and Christopher tells him to shut up then and let him finish. He continues his story. Silvio thinks Fritzi said something else other than salut, and for the rest of the night Silvio blames Fritzi for his losing streak. Monkey Boy Not From A Bronx Tale asks what Silvio thought he said, and Christopher gets all agitated. "Are you listening to me or what? He's a fucking nut! Who knows?" Fish guy gives them their seafood, protesting once again that he didn't put his finger in the scale. Okay, fish boy, you've lost and you don't even know it, so you get the stoopid award. Poor guy. Maybe I'm being tough on him. I withdraw the stoopid comment. As Christopher leaves the store he tells the boys to pay for the fish and put it in the trunk so it doesn't stink up the car. Both monkey boys confer about Christopher, asking themselves if he's for real or what, and if he thinks they're fucking piss boys. Well, not piss boys, but monkey boys! "C'mon, let's get the fuck outta here." Yeah, let's blow this fishsicle stand.
Close-up of vinyl dominatrix boots, much like those worn by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, coming down a set of stairs. Furio, sticking his chin out in that oh-so-Godfather way even more than usual, approaches the desk of what appears to be a hotel. That long ponytail has really got to go, and the silk shirt is a bit too billowy for my taste. He rings the bell a million times, and an evidently Hasidic Jew comes in, looking not so enthused at Furio's presence. Without so much as a howdy-do, Furio demands, "We want the room with the stove and refrigerator." "The efficiencies have been booked to paying customers," the Hasid replies. "Muovono," Furio grunts, which means either "hurry up" or "bastard," I'm not sure which. Furio continues his demands for additional rooms on the sides, for they may be there for some days. This must be for Tony's executive game. The Hasid begins to complain that they are ruining the place. Furio won't have it, and tells him that it's his father's fault for making a business deal with them. Then he says he wants a lot of clean towels and the bathrooms "fresh-smelling." For some reason I get a kick out of that. "I should work for nothing?" the Hasid says in his best Fiddler on the Roof impression. Meanwhile, scantily clad women have been mysteriously walking up and down the stairs behind Furio. He calls one over by name, Vivica. Okay, she is definitely dressed for the street corner, or perhaps a Sex and the City audition. Furio asks her if she ever sucks his dick, gesturing towards the Hasid. In her best saucy homegirl inflection, she responds, "I make that beanie spin when I work his thing." Ew. That's an image straight out of a Mel Brooks movie. I also can't stand people who call yarmulkes beanies. Vivica slinks off, and Furio tells the Hasid not to bitch to him. Heh heh.