This is my first CSI storyver! And I just thought I'd ruin my reputation by starting off with a terribly humerous, nonsensical story that makes no sense whatsoever, so enjoy it while you can! I don't own CSI or its characters, or Jigsaw, or the Master of Disguise, or Oprah(she obviously owns herself...or does she?), and Eminem rocks, so don't sue! And for those of you who don't know, Eric Szmanda plays Greg, just to let you know for later on...
"Just Lose It"
By Aweena
It was a slow day at CSI HQ, with not many cases to work, and the ones they were working had no leads. So they were all bored.
"I'm sooo bored!" Cat whined. She got up from her desk and met up with Nick, and they started making out.
"Get a room," Grissom said, and they did. "Sara, I'm going swimming. Now, which suit should I wear?" He held up a string bikini, then a sweater vest.
Sara pondered for a moment, then spoke. "Well, the sweater vest looks nice, but it might be a little too revealing. You should go with the bikini; flowers suit you, Griss."
"Thanks," he said with a smile. "Who's coming with me?!"
chirp, chirp, chirp
"Fine. I'll go with Ecklie," he said, and marched off, leaving Sarah alone with Warrick.
"So..." he said.
"The weather," said Sara.
"I got you a present," he told her, pulling a box from his desk drawer.
"Really?!" she exclaimed. He handed her the box, and she opened it. "Oh my God! The Platinum Edition Organ set! Thank you so much, Rick, this is awesome!"
"No problem. Hey, where's Greg?" Warrick asked.
"Yeah, I don't know. I haven't seen Brass today, either," she replied.
Meanwhile...
Jim awoke in a dark room. It was hot, making it hard to breath.
"Nice of you to join me, Brass," came a voice, eerie and hoarse.
A bright light blinded him for a few moments, but his eyes finally got used to it. The room was still dark, except for the yellow light preventing him from seeing the man behind it. He heard footsteps, then a crash as the light fell to the floor and went out.
"Damn it!" the man shouted. "Turn the lights on, this isn't working out."
The lights came on, and Brass could see the room, and the man in it.
"Eric?" he asked, confused. "What the hell is going on?"
Greg turned to Jim. His face was painted black, and he had on dark red lipstick, and his hair was spiked out, streaked with red and black.
"Well, I was trying to follow the script, but someone put the light in the wrong spot. Look at me, ok? I don't get paid enough to wear lipstick on national television," Eric said.
"So...why did you kidnap me?" Brass asked.
"Well, Jerry Bruckheimer said that it couldn't be done realistically if we acted it out, so he just told me to take care of it," Eric told him.
"Damn it, Eric. I'm bleeding! This is real blood!" Brass said.
"Oh wah. Go cry to Jerry, it was his idea. And now I have to do it all over again, so tell your security guard to lay off. It's a good thing I had my tazer with me last time," Eric said.
"Why are you wearing paint, anyways?" Brass asked him.
"I was trying to get the evil villain thingy going on. Is it working?" Eric asked.
"Well, you coulda used a little putty for volume, but it's all right," he said.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Eric said, then closed his eyes. "Become another person, become another person..." he said. "Ok, from here on out, I'm Greg."
Nobody entered the room. The lights went out. Someone screamed.
"Shut up, Greg," Brass said.
"Detectives," came a deep voice.
"Jigsaw?" Greg asked.
"Damn it, Greg! How'd you know it was me?!" Jigsaw shouted through the intercom.
"I'm in the Evil Villains 4 Life club. We just had a meeting last night, duh, remember? I was the one standing by the coffee maker when you were playing the cello? I had on the pink underwear?"
"Oh, that's right-"
"People, please. What's going on, here? Why do I keep getting kidnapped?" Brass said.
"I want to play a game," Jigsaw told him.
"Ok," Brass said. "I've go checkers in my car..."
Greg held up his phone. "I've got Sudoku on my cell," he announced.
"No! Shut up! When the lights come on, you will see a television in each corner of the room opposite of you. You must figure out how to turn it on before your time runs out. You have two hours," he said, and the lights turned on. As he said, there were two TV's in the room.
"It's ok, Greg, you can do this," he told himself.
Brass approached the television and kneeled before it, pressing the "ON" button. The television turned on.
"I can't do this!" Greg said.
"Press the "ON" button," Brass said, walking over to Greg's TV. "Oh dear God. There is no "ON" button!" he cried, covering his mouth.
"He's gonna kill me!" Greg shouted, then screamed. "I'm can't die like this! I'm wearing lipstick!"
Brass slapped him. "Get a hold of yourself. We need to...to find the remote! That's it, find the remote."
Greg went pale. They both turned slowly to see a large sofa, setting menacingly.
"No! I won't do it! Not again, I won't go back!" Greg cried.
Brass slapped him.
"Stop doing that, it's not helping!" Greg said. "Look, you've smeared my paint, are you happy?"
"Go to the couch, Greg," Brass said. "If you don't...you will die."
"I'm too young to die!" Greg cried, then looked at the couch. "I'll do it!" He pulled his gun and emptied the rounds into the sofa. "Biatch!"
"Greg, you have a gun?!" Jim exclaimed.
"Yeah, what of it?"
"The only thing keeping us in here is that lock!"
"Well, that doesn't matter, now. I've got...the remote!" Greg said happily. He looked at the remote. There was no "ON" button. "Oh, come on! How in the hell am I supposed to turn the damned TV on without a damned "ON" button, you damned Jigsaw?!"
"Use the force, Greg," Brass said.
"Oh, I'll use the damned force, all right," Greg said, and chucked the remote at the TV, busting the screen and leaving the remote in pieces on the floor. He jerked the cord from the wall and kicked the TV over, then picked it up and threw it at Brass, knocking him to the floor.
"What the hell was that for?!" Jim asked.
"For being here!" Greg shouted. He took a deep breath, then spoke again. "Is our time up, yet?" Greg asked.
"Brass checked his watch. "No, it's only been three minutes."
"What? What time is it?" he asked.
"7:03 PM."
"Screw this, I'm watching CSI," he said, sitting on the sofa.
"We are CSI."
Greg glared at him. "Then I'll watch CSI Miami."
"There's only one problem," Jim said. "There are no channel buttons, and this is set to...to...TV Land!" Brass said.
"Oh, God, no!" Greg cried. "Why?!"
"The remote, Greg! Get the remote!"
"It's broken!"
"Good job, Sherlock!" Brass shouted.
"I can't stay in her for two hours with...TV Land!" Greg said, then fell to the floor. "Go on without me, Jim. I'll find a way..." he whispered, then closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo(breaths)oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Brass shouted. "Why couldn't it have been me?!"
"It could be you," Jigsaw said.
Brass jumped to his feet and smiled. "He was a good boy, I knew him well, he'll be greatly missed."
"All right. Well, since he's dead, and your TV's on, I don't see why I can't let you out," Jigsaw said.
"I win!" Brass said, and left the room.
Greg opened his eyes and sat up. Jigsaw entered the room
"Freshness with a spin, plug it in, plug it in!" Jigsaw sang.
Greg got to his feet and walked up to Jig saw, then threw up on him. "Sorry about that...well, it looks like I've got a crime scene to process. I'll call the others. Sie sind unter Verhantung. Sie haben das recht zu einem Rechtsanwalt. Whatever, do you understand your rights?" he asked, putting on the cuffs.
"Dumm kopf," he said.
"All righty, then," Greg replied, then dialed Sara's number.
"Sup homie G gangsta?" she answered.
"Nuthin much, I got a suspect in the heazy crime sceney," Greg said.
"Fo rizzle?" she asked.
"Fo shizzle bizzle biscuit dizzle," he said.
"Coofizzle. Be there in a mizzle."
Grissom was the first to arrive, then the others filed in.
"Ew, Grissom, I told you to go with the bikini," Sara said.
"I felt uncomfortable in it," Grissom said
"But you're comfortable wearing just socks and a sweater vest?" Nick asked.
"Yeah, try it," Griss said, so Nick put on a sweater vest over his shirt.
"Wow, they're really warm."
"Yeah, I kept it in the latrine," he told him.
"Cool."
"You don't know what that is, do you?"
"No idea," Nick said.
Grissom said nothing.
"So, what've we got?" Warrick asked.
"Well, Greg looks a little psychotic, he won't answer my questions," Cat said.
Greg was laughing insanely in the corner, rocking forth and back, staring at the busted TV in the opposite corner.
"Greg, you ok, buddy?" Grissom asked.
Greg stood up, still laughing hysterically, and pulled a gun from a sweater vest hanging on the wall.
"Say hello to my little friend!" he shouted, and shot them all, shells flying.
"Aw, Greg, you had to use the egg gun, didn't you?" Nick asked, wiping told from his face.
Greg ran out of the room with the gun, still laughing.
Grissom sighed. It was going to be a long day. They all put on their sweater vests, and continued their work. He would have to call Ecklie later.
"So, who do you think did it?" Jigsaw asked them.
"I'm thinking Clark Kent," Cat said, taking a picture.
"Are you kidding me? I think that's a little far-fetched," Greg said, reentering the room. "I was here, I know who did it."
"Who?" Warrick asked.
Just then, Oprah teleported into the room. "You all will die!" she shouted, then she exploded.
Greg awoke in a cold sweat. That was one hell of a nightmare. He got up from his bed and brushed his teeth, his hair, got dressed, and headed outside. He unlocked his car.
"Took you long enough," the man in the passenger seat said.
"Jigsaw?" he asked.
"No," the man said, then Greg saw his face.
"No, it can't be...Oprah!" he screamed, then ran down the street, down another street, took a right and ran down that street, took another right, ran down that street, then ran down the last street, to his car. He was breathing heavily when he opened the door again. "Why are you still here?! I just ran two city blocks! Get the hell out of my car!"
Oprah sighed, then got out.
"Damn," Greg breathed, then started his car, and left for work.
Done! Finally done! I've typed this damned thing three times now! The power keeps shutting off, and I'd only saved up to the halfway point the first time it went out, so had to type the rest, and got 3/4 of the way done and was about to save the the power went out yet again...so I think I'm safe, now, I'm gonna save at the end of this paragraph, then check it, then save it again...lots of saves, I know. Anywho, on to the show. I hope you all liked it, it's a one shot, so tell me what you thought about it, unless it's destroyed too many of your brain cells. If that's the case, read the fine print at the bottom, and review, please!
Not liable for brain damage or any other injury caused or relating to this story.