Summary: Response to Kimonkey7's April Fools Bad Fic Challenge
Author: Sarah (thatTaylorgirl)
Prompts provided by: Kristen (Kristen999)
Location: Bowling Alley
Evidence: Tape recorder—missing tape
Dialogue: "I am secured in my masculinity."
Weapon: Shot gun
Things that Glow Green
Nick hated bowling alleys. He didn't know why. They were dirty. Maybe that is why he hated them. There was nothing worse than a dirty bowling alley because it felt dirty. He didn't like dirt.
When he and Sara were told to go to the bowling alley he hated it because he hated bowling alleys. But there was a DB at the bowling alley, so he had to go. It was his job.
There was one thing he liked about bowling alleys, though. They had good food. And it wasn't dirty food, so that made it better.
Tonight he was working with Sara. He liked Sara. She wasn't dirty. Unless she was working a decomp case. Then she was dirty. Dirty like decomp. Decomp smelled really bad.
"Hey Sara," he asked climbing into the driver's seat of the Denali. He liked driving. It wasn't dirty. "do you like bowling alleys?"
"I'm good at bowling," she nodded. Her hair was dark and brown, dark and brown like a dark fudge brownie, with hot fudge drizzled over it. Her eyes were almost as dark and brown, but not quiet. Nick could remember when Sara had highlighted her hair. It was almost blonde once. He didn't like it then. She was much prettier with her hair dark.
She put on her seatbelt.
"I hate bowling alleys," Nick shook his head. "They're dirty."
"You don't like dirt?" she asked.
"I don't like dirt," he shook his head again. He really hated dirt.
It was dark. The clock on the dash glowed a scary green, like a scary green monster or something else that was ugly and green. Boogers were ugly and green. The clock told Nick and Sara that it was almost 1:00 in the morning. Nick didn't like things that glowed green either. He hated them like he hated dirt.
"Are you coming in?" Sara asked opening the door and getting out.
It was cold outside and it was dark.
"I'm coming," he nodded.
He grabbed his kit from the backseat. It was shiny like silver metal because it was made of shiny silver metal. The metal made it heavy sometimes. Tonight it felt heavy.
He let Sara lead the way inside. He wanted to stay outside as long as he could, but that wasn't very long because Sara grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He looked at the cop standing at the door. He looked mean and scary too. Kind of like the green booger clock in the car. He tried not to laugh at the thought.
The body laid in the middle of the middle lane, four lanes on each side.
"Hi David," Sara smiled a little flirtatiously. She shouldn't be doing that, but she liked David, but he was married now. She couldn't help but like him, though. He was kind of cute. That look made Nick a little jealous, too, but not as jealous as he had been when she dated Hank.
"Hi Sara," the coroner smiled looking up from his clipboard.
"What's the tape recorder for?" Nick asked pointing to the tape recorder. "Taking notes on tape now?"
"Here when I got here," David shrugged.
Sara took a picture of it and picked it up.
"There's no tape," she looked at Nick. Nick didn't like tape recorders about as much as he didn't like things that glowed green and about as much as he didn't like dirt. He still liked bubble gum though. He liked bubble gum alot. His favorite was probably Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum, the kind that had two flavors, one on the outside and one on the inside. He probably liked the cherry-lemonade the best. That was definitely his favorite. It reminded him of drinking cherry lemonade because it tasted like cherry lemonade.
"So how are we supposed to know the message?" he threw up his hands frustrated.
"What message?" Sara asked.
"From the killer," Nick nodded. Duh, he thought. "Duh!" he said, "They always leave messages. Remember?"
"David, do you know who he is?" Sara turned. She was a little scared of Nick right now. She didn't want him to see her scared face. She'd rather David see it.
"17 year old male," David said standing while Sara took pictures of the body. "Looks like he was shot," David shook his head pointing to the bullet exit wound in the kid's back. "Name's Jameson Hickam, from Henderson."
"He was shot?" Nick asked.
"Once in the chest," David nodded.
"Do we have a weapon?" Sara asked.
"I'd say it was a gun," David shrugged. "A really big gun."
"Maybe a shot gun. Bet that's missing too," Nick walked away. The bowling alley smelled. It smelled bad. He didn't like it.
"Where do you want to start?" he asked Sara.
Brass walked over now. He'd been over at the bar. Probably talking to someone, a witness. The bartender was a witness.
"Hey guys. Guess you met Jameson Hickam?"
"We're old friends," Sara nodded. "Looks like he was shot."
"You guys don't miss anything, do you?" the detective asked. His voice was sarcastic.
"So we've got a DB in a bowling alley," Nick sighed. His hair was long. Sara didn't like it long. She thought it looked like he was trying to hide something, because he always had that look like he was trying to hide something. It could just be her imagination though.
"We've got an empty tape recorder."
"Yeah without a tape," Nick nodded.
"We've got a gun," Brass added, his finger pointed to the air. What was he Inspector Clouseau now?
"We've got a gun," Sara said. "Where?" She looked at Brass and then she looked at Nick.
"Men's bathroom," Brass pointed to the men's bathroom.
Nick and Sara looked at each other. It was going to come down to a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. He didn't want to go in there. He hated bowling alley bathrooms more than he hated bowling alleys. They were dirty. They were dirtier than the bowling alley.
"Let's do this," Sara glared at him. She was always competitive. "Rock, Paper, Scissors," she said slapping her fist into her open palm.
"Rock beats scissors," Nick laughed.
"Hey it's cool," Sara shrugged. "I am secured in my masculinity. I can handle it," she shrugged again.
"I'd say," Brass smirked.
The two men watched Sara walk to the men's bathroom. They saw several flashes come from room and then Sara came back out with a shot gun.
"That was easy," she smiled. Her smile always made Nick want to laugh. "It was on the sink."
"I'll fingerprint it. I'll even use Grissom's pink stuff," he smiled. He bent down, opened his shiny silver field kit and pulled out the hot pink powder. He liked the pink powder, it reminded him of the cherry center of the Hubba Bubba gum he liked so much.
"Any finger prints?" Sara asked as she watched David wheel the DB away.
"Yeah," Nick nodded. Slow and steady he used his tape to lift the prints. "I just tape lifted them. I'll run them through AFIS."
"I'll take the gun to Bobby in ballistics," Sara nodded.
"Hey Brass, we got a witness?" Nick turned to Brass.
"Aw, I thought you forgot about me. Bartender said he was closing down," Jim Brass started to tell the CSIs. "This kid was the last one to…uh…leave. He said he was practicing for some weekend tournament. He saw some guy come in with a shotgun, shoot him and leave."
"So why was the gun in the bathroom?" Sara asked Detective Brass.
"I guess he had to pee and forgot it while he washed his hands," Detective Brass shrugged.
"Maybe we can find out who the gun belongs to."
"Should we fingerprint the tape recorder? I mean, if the killer left a message but took the tape, his prints will be on the buttons."
"You can fume it when we get back to the lab," Sara nodded.
"I guess we're done here," Detective Brass sighed. He was tired, really tired. He was tired like he hadn't slept in days.
"You okay, Jim?" Nick asked as they left the scene.
"I am tired," he shook his head. "I haven't slept in days."
"That sucks."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"We'll see you back at the lab," Sara nodded as she started climbing into the Denali.
As she was climbing into the Denali, a man came running up to them.
"Hey, there's a man," Nick pointed across the parking lot. "You think he wants to go bowling?" he laughed.
"Nobody wants to go bowling that bad," Sara shook her head.
"Hey, pal," Brass stepped in front of the man. "What's the hurry?"
"My friend," the man pointed toward the bowling alley. The man's hair was long and shaggy. I kind of looked like a pirate, but he didn't wear an eye patch or a bandana. So he didn't really look like a pirate afterall, except that he had long hair. His hair was dirty too. "My friend's in there," he yelled pointing over Detective Brass's shoulder. Detective Brass was busy trying to hold him back from running into the bowling alley. He didn't want him contaminating the scene.
"Hold it my man," Nick said running to help Detective Brass. It took the two of them to calm him down and get him to take a seat on the bumper of the Denali. Slowly the pirate man sat on the bumper of the Denali, kind of like he didn't want to, but he did anyway.
"Now, what seems to be the problem?" Detective Brass asked.
"My friend…" the pirate panted out of breath. He was out of breath like someone that had just run five blocks. "My friend's in there. I…I think I shot him."
"What!" Detective Brass asked taken back.
"Well, I wanted to go bowling tonight," the pirate shook his head. "So did he. So we went bowling."
"Hey…hey. Before we go any further. What's your name pal?" Detective Brass asked.
"Billy. Billy Freedmont Hickum."
"Are you related to Jameson Hickam?"
"No, he's my friend," he shook his head. "Our names sound the same, but they're spelled differently. His has an A, mine has a U. Completely different."
"Yeah, okay," Brass raised a hand to stop the man from talking. He sort of looked like a police man stopping traffic.
"You think you shot your friend?" Nick asked.
"Yeah."
"Why would you think that?" Brass asked.
"Cause when I was showing him the gun, it went off. After it went off, he fell to the ground."
"Okay," Nick looked at Sara. "Sounds like you shot your friend."
"Is he okay?" Billy asked.
"Well, uh….no," Sara shook her head. She sounded without emotion. "He's dead."
"Oh, man," Billy stood up now shocked and very upset. He was running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. "Man, oh man. I'm in so much trouble. My mom is going to be so mad at me," he started yelling now.
"Hey, hey, I don't think it's your mom you need to worry about," Brass tried to slow the man's pacing by stepping in front of him, in his path of walking.
"Let me ask you something," Nick said wanting to ask him a question.
"Me first," Sara stepped forward. "Why'd you put the gun in the bathroom?"
"I had to pee," Billy shook his head. He was wearing a red plaid shirt and cut off blue jeans with a pair of cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.
"Okay, now my turn. Why the tape recorder? Where's the tape?"
"I recorded a message for my parents," Billy said. "I took them the tape."
"What'd you say to them?" Brass asked.
"Bye."
"Good message," Nick smirked.
"I'm going to jail now?"
"Yeah, I'd say so," Brass nodded. He handcuffed the pirate named Billy and put him in the back of the uniformed officer's car.
He stood by his car looking at the two CSIs, they did good. Sometimes cases could be easy.
The End.