The Death of A Salesman
Rating: G (so totally harmless)
Disclaimer: Don't own CSI: Miami of Napoleon Dynamite. Gosh!
Author's Note: I little idea I had floating around as I am currently suffering from some severe writers block from my other story Bloody Valentine. A movie/TV crossover, with CSI Miami and Napoleon Dynamite. No real romance or drama, just something I thought would be funny. Me and my wacky sense of humour. Anyway, I need to be motivated to write, so review or I'll release the hounds!
Ltt. Horatio Caine and his team of CSI's arrived at a small caravan park near Robson beach. The place looked pretty empty, a few cars littered the car park. Over in the far end of the Caravan Park they saw their crime scene, an orange R.V. It was Ryan who said what they were all thinking.
"That has to be the ugliest thing I have ever seen." Ryan stated, as they made their way towards the R.V.
"Welcome to the eighties," Calleigh answered, Eric letting out a snicker.
They met Yelina at the door of the van.
"The victim's name is Rico Dynamite, age 37. The landlord found him like this two hours ago. The guy didn't pay his rent yesterday and he usually does." She said, moving a side for them to see inside. Inside the small van was their M.E., Alexx Woods.
"Poor thing, he was in the prime of his life," She turned to her colleagues. "No obvious cause of death, I'll have to open him up." Alexx lifted up his shirt. "Found some deep bruising on his chest, indicating possible suffocation."
As the assistant M.E's loaded the body onto the truck for transportation back to the morgue, the CSI's grabbed their torches and entered the dimly lit R.V. It contained a bed, a counter, a microwave, a small sofa and a black and white television and VCR. The walls were covered in football memorabilia, trophies and posters, many of them dating back to the eighties. The clothes in a duffel bag were also eighties.
"This guy was living in the past," Eric said, pointing at some tight blue flared pants. He looked around, his eyes focussing on a box in the corner. "24 piece Tupperware set. This guy was a travelling salesman."
"What colour hair did our victim have?" Ryan asked.
"Brown, why?" answered Calleigh.
"I've got a hair, brownish red, curly and thick. I'll look at it closer at the lab." Ryan stated, putting the hair into an evidence bag.
Horatio walked towards the cupboard underneath the TV. He opened it and gazed down in surprise. It was filled with ten and hundreds of videotapes. The others gathered round.
"What do you make of that, H?" Eric asked, "Do you think its porn?"
"Or something else he's obsessed with," Horatio said. He turned to face Ryan.
"Pack these up, I want them analysed at the lab." Horatio was about to walk out the door, when Calleigh called out.
"Hey guys, look at this," Calleigh called out. In her hand she held a small cylinder of Chap Stick.
"We could get some DNA off of that," Eric said "and compare it with the hair sample we found."
Ryan opened a small fridge/freezer next to the television set.
"Okay, this guy was seriously freaky," Ryan stated, shuffling around in the fridge "it's filled with steak and full fat milk."
"Some weird new diet, perhaps?" Calleigh suggested, shining her torch along the floor. "Hang on a minute," she paused, bending down, "I've got some shoeprints." She took a couple of photos and collected the evidence.
"Good job everybody," Horatio said, putting on his sunglasses "let's meet up at the lab."
As Horatio tore out of the parking lot in the hummer, Eric, Calleigh and Ryan were left packing up the evidence and kits.
"What were you like in the eighties, Cal?" Eric asked, half smirking.
"Oh, you know, big hair, puffy sleeves, bright blue eye shadow, the works," Ryan and Eric started laughing. "What?" Calleigh demanded.
"It's just hard to picture you dancing around to 'Video Killed the Radio Star', that's all." Ryan replied, laughing.
"Hey, don't insult the eighties classics," Calleigh warned, " 'Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun' won me a karaoke contest."
Ryan and Eric burst out laughing.
Author's Note: Just decided to add those eighties songs, ties in with the whole Uncle Rico thing. Quick disclaimer: don't own any of the songs mentioned. Also, sorry for the shortness, the scenes with Napoleon and Kipwill be longer, and funnier. Now Review or I will never write again. This story is dedicated to my best friend, Jo, who loves Napoleon almost as much as I do!