Back at the table, Paulie calls for the check. Remember the smarmy French waiter. He'll be important in a minute. Paulie glances at the bill just long enough to chuckle over the total ($1,184, which will also be important in a minute), and then passes it over to Christopher, who reluctantly starts counting out his cash.
Cut to the parking lot, where Paulie is still taunting Chris over the size of the bill. Naturally, this upsets Christopher, and when Paulie demands to know what the problem is, here's the reply he gets: "Steaks! Three-pound lobsters! The shrimp fucking cocktail you made everyone get. And then, on top of everything else, you send those skanks a bottle of Cristal? Not to mention the Lyonnaise fucking potatoes you didn't even touch!" Hee! It's totally the potatoes that sell it. That and the fact that Christopher even knows the word "Lyonnaise" in the first place. They almost come to blows once again, but this time they're interrupted by the smarmy French waiter, who has come up with the brilliant idea of challenging the two scary-looking Italian guys in a darkened parking lot over the size of a tip they left on a bill that would have had an automatic gratuity added on in any case. The problem is that Chris only left $1,200 on a $1,184 check, and poor Frenchy here has a wife and two-point-five cute little beret-wearing moppets at home to feed. In other words, we should feel sorry for him. You know, because David Chase really wants you to. When Chris refuses to increase the size of the tip, Frenchy gets a little lippy (as the French are wont to do. I'm kidding! Don't email), and Christopher responds by beaning him in the back of the head with a handy chunk of asphalt. This sends Frenchy into a grand mal seizure of some sort, and Christopher and Paulie are totally clueless about how to handle the situation. "Don't they have medicine they're supposed to take?" wonders Chrissy. Actually, they probably do, but rather than look for it, Paulie instead opts just to shoot the guy right in the chest. Oh, yeah. You want whackings? We got whackings. Paulie reaches down to grab the money from the check off Frenchy's dead body, and even though the point here is that we're totally not supposed to sympathize with a bunch of sociopathic killers, David Chase still can't help going for the cheap laugh with Christopher shouting, "That's my money, Paulie!" as they dash to their cars. Yep, that's right! He'll be here all week, folks. And PLEASE, don't forget to tip your waiters and waitresses. Incidentally, Chris is now driving a Hummer, so I'm not really sure where he gets off bitching about having to spend so much on dinners. Especially because that's like his tenth car in five season. But, whatever.