PLEASE READ:

Okay, I'm going to warn you right now. If you have not read the first in this series, "Bodies and Broccoli" I suggest you do so that you don'tthink I'm a horrible out-of-character writer (Because I can easily write in-character, it just doesn't work for this particular story because of its necessity to be completely and absurdly weird). The first was partially based off a dream, and now I'm expanding its amazingly freakish weirdness to a sequal! Woohoo! Celebrate:) So yes, expect this to be extremely strange, and I recommend reading the first first. And if you think I'm crazy, I sort of am, but it was seriously just a dream that I'm expanding and I hardly think that dreams are any indication of a persons saneness...most of the time...

Summary:

Bodies and Broccoli, the sequal! With all its vegetably spectacularness! Sara has gotten over broccoli, Nick is back in the lab, but all is not well. For one morning at a diner, Sara is arrested for shooting those eagles (You know, the ones that were going to eat her broccoli) and now Greg has called those people in Chicago to help! Liz and Jason head on over, but are the sudden occuring arsons a result of the pyromaniac Jason, or somebody else? And what do they do when Sara doesn't WANT to come out of jail? I mean, after all, they are giving her all the asparagus she can eat because none of the other inmates want to eat anything but meatloaf!

Chapter One

Can I take your order?

A small diner sat nestled half a mile from the Las Vegas Crime Lab, and was often the choice of refuge for a well-deserved breakfast after a long night of work, work, work, and dead people. It was on one particular morning like these, in which Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders sat down at one of the few deserted tables left in that diner.

"Greg, there's something I've always been meaning to ask you." Sara said as she set down a plate of asparagus on their table, picked a piece up and nibbled on it.

"And what would that be?" he answered, setting his hands on the table and folding them pleasantly.

"How do you get your hair like that?" Sara asked, pointed at it with a cheese-smothered stalk of asparagus.

Greg smiled. "I'm a superhero; Captain Hair. My hair defies the laws of gravity."

"Oh…" Sara, twisted her head to look at Greg's mussed up hair, then shrugged it off and bit into her vegetable. "So how was work today?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Fine…but you should know that since you were there."

Sara shrugged again. "Just felt like asking,"

"Uh-huh…hey, where's our waiter?"

Sara turned around in her spot to glance around at the numerous filled tables, 1/4 of which were accompanied by a black-uniformed waiter or waitress. "Uhh…I don't know," she said after a minute, twisting back around to her meal ahead. It was piled high and drenched with melted cheese, and it seemed that Sara was enjoying every bit of it.

"Sara, why is there so much cheese on your asp—I-I mean, your meal?" Greg asked for lack of better conversation.

Sara bit the head of a piece off then licked the cheese from the corners of her mouth. "Because I don't like asparagus without the cheese on it."

"Oh," Greg nodded as if he understood fully, and then looked away, obviously becoming bored. He glanced at the salt and pepper shakers, the cream and sugar, and finally the grape and strawberry jelly packets before yawning widely. "When is our wa—" But he was answered quickly by one of the uniformed employees sashaying over to them.

They held lightly to a pad of paper in one hand while grasping lightly to a pink-feather-pen in the other. Their eyes were a deep mud brown, their dusty black hair swept over in a side part with faint hints at hair gel. The smelled slightly of cheap cologne, and when they spoke it was very brisk, sharp, and laced with a gritty, possibly southern accent.

"Now what can I get for you two?" he asked, brandishing the pink-feather-pen.

"Umm…I'll have some bacon and—" Greg began, but he suddenly caught sight of Sara's darkening face at the mention of bacon. "I-I mean, I'll have a nice plate of pancakes."

"Okay then…" The waiter scribbled onto his notepad, licking his lips absentmindedly. "And for you hun?"

"I'll pass; I've brought my own food." Sara said, folding her hands and placing them under her chin.

The waiter pursed his lips.

"Look, sweet cheeks, in case you haven't noticed we're pretty busy this morning. Now, I need you to order something or else I'm gonna have to kick you out."

Sara just stared back at him.

"I'm gonna give you ten minutes, 'kay?"

She didn't say anything so the waiter turned and glided away once more. Sara watched him go, but her gaze drifted inadvertently downwards. When he turned a corner Sara sat up and poked at her asparagus.

"I like his butt…" she said quietly, causing Greg to cough and sputter after taking a drink of water. He pounded his chest and cleared his throat.

"Th-that's nice…"

Ten minutes later as promised, the waiter was sashaying back to them, still holding the pink-feather-pen.

"Okay girl, what's your order?"

Sara made a fist with her left hand and placed her chin on it, gazing up at the waiter. She squinted at his name tag, then spoke, "Scott, I like you're butt."

"That's nice hun, I like your boyfriend, now gimme your order."

Sara gawked at him as Greg choked on his glass of water again.

"Well? Come on! I don't have all day! I'm getting a full manicure/pedicure after work and I can't be late because they'll give away my appointment."

"I already told you." Sara said slowly, suddenly hostile. "I'm not ordering anything because I'm already eating something."

"And I said that you had better make up your sassy little mind before I have you arrested for loitering and then give away your spot to some hot, big-breasted, supermodel throwing goo-goo eyes at Mr. Cool Hair here!"

Sara pursed her lips and glowered while Greg spilled water down his front.

"Now, what'll it be?" Scott asked breathlessly, waving the feather-pen.

Sara kept her eyes narrow and a slight smirk spread across her face. Then she said, sarcastically, "Asparagus, with extra cheese."

"Look, girlfriend, don't get sassy with me, you hear? I don't need to be arguing with a customer today! I have a manicure to look forward to! Now give me your order, or you can take your damn asparagus and get out, while I go looking for that hot big-breasted supermodel to seat your boyfriend with."

"MINE!" Sara suddenly snapped, snatching the asparagus platter from the table and scrambling as far against the wall as possible. "It's mine! All mine! Because you can't have any because it's MINE!"

"Argh!" Scott cried, throwing his hands up and letting the pink-feather-pen fly into somebody's cup of coffee. "That's it! I'm calling the cops, dangit!"

Sara glared after him as he stalked off, and Greg could have sworn he heard her growling softly. He whispered softly, "Are you sure you're all right?" It was the tactic Grissom, he, and the rest of the lab had devised to use whenever they accidentally said aloud the name of the vegetable Sara was obsessing over. She had been obsessed with asparagus for a little over two weeks now and had only flipped out once or twice, mainly because everybody knew to never ever say the 'a' word.

"Mindy was right…" Sara whined, sticking a piece of asparagus into her mouth. "All the good looking ones are gay…" She was in particular referring to a quite unattractive redhead living currently in Chicago, who had recently taken to saying nothing but "I see freaky dead people!" thanks to a certain Las Vegan ex-DNA-tech.

"I'm not gay," Greg said.

"A genetic miracle."

Greg shrugged during Sara's pause. Sara then said, somewhat nervously, "Do you think he's really going to call the cops?"

Greg shrugged again. "But I'm wet. I kept either choking on my water or spilling it on myself."

Sara shrugged this time.

Shrug.

Shrug.

"Can we stop shrugging?" Sara asked, licking cheese from her lips.

Greg nodded, when suddenly the doors to the diner flew open and two uniformed officers stalked in.

"Who here is named Sara Sidle?"

Sara embarrassedly slid deeper into her seat.

"No one, eh?" the first cop said. "How about which one-a-yas got a plate of asparagus in fronta yer right now?"

The cops looked around at the crowded diner that had fallen silent. Scott, standing in a corner, looked very pleased.

"They're over there, officers!" he said happily, pointing.

They stormed over to Sara and Greg's table and stood with their hands on their hips, giant mustaches, and generally unhappy looking disposition.

"Which one-a-yers names is Sara Sidle?" one asked, pointing at either of them.

Greg looked at Sara who was sitting with her nose barely above the table surface, then with an apologetic wince, he pointed at her.

"Yer comin' with us, Missy," the second cop said.

Sara sat up straight in her seat, laughing falsely. "Whatever for? I'm just sitting here with my colleague having a nice breakfast before heading home to get some sleep."

"Yer comin' with us for shooting an endangered species. Yer wanted in Nowhere County for the illegal shooting of eagles."

"Wh-What?" Sara cried, her eyes widening.

"You heard me. Come on."

"B-But…"

"Don't make this harder on yerself than it already is."

Sara gulped and looked Greg who shrugged.

"D-Do they have asparagus in prison?" she asked, looking up at the officers, her face screwed up into a pitiful almost guilty-puppy-ish expression.

"And meatloaf."

"Then I'm all set."

The officers bent down and grabbed Sara's wrists, handcuffed her, and dragged her out of the diner. Greg gaped after them then turned to the table.

"Great…" he moaned, putting his head in his hands and sighing. Then suddenly, Scott's voice appeared in his left ear.

"I said I'd get you a big-breasted supermodel, and here she is."

Greg moved his head up so his eyes weren't concealed but his fingers still mingled around his nose and mouth.

Sitting across from him was a blonde woman, wearing a red halter-top, draped with a thin jacket, and cleavage the size of the Grand Canyon.

"Oh jeez…" Greg pulled his hands up to his eyes again.

"That waiter said that your girlfriend was just arrested," the woman said in a high, yet pleasant voice.

"Not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend, not my girlfriend," Greg repeated, still shielding his eyes.

"She's not your girlfriend? Your fiancé?"

"Not my fiancé, not romantically involved, not romantically involved," Greg continued, still covering his face.

"You're not involved? Then what's the fun?"

Greg heard the woman huff and storm off then he cautiously peeked out from behind a pinky. Nobody.

"Phew…"

He sagged in his seat and began contemplating. Sara had been arrested. She had left her asparagus behind. How was she going to be? Wait…they had said there was asparagus in prison. She should be fine. But they only had three people covering graveyard shift that way, and only one person covering swing ever since Catherine and Warrick decided they were better off protecting the eagles.

"We're gonna need help covering shift and getting Sara out of jail…" Greg thought aloud. "I know just who to call…" And he pulled out his cellphone and began to dial.