A/N: I had started reading another fic and was reminded about Grissom's statement about his experience with chem sets as a child. This is my take on what happened.
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The Original Mixer
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It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Grissom household. Oliver Grissom sat at the breakfast table, reading the morning paper, as he lazily ate his breakfast. His wife Angela sat across from him and read the entertainment section as she ate her own plate of sausage and eggs. Saturday was a favorite day in the Grissom house. It was the first day of the all-too-short weekend that ended the all-too-long work week.
"Where's Gil?" Oliver asked without looking up from his paper then scolded himself as he looked up at his deaf wife and slapped the table top, getting her attention. "Where's Gil?"
Angela smiled as she pointed at the floor, signifying that he was in the basement again. Oliver shook his head as he turned back to the paper.
"I'll never get that boy." He mumbled to himself as he grabbed his cup of coffee off the table. "Always down in the basement, six year olds are supposed to be scared of basements... what the hell does he do down there all the time."
It was not a question that Oliver Grissom wanted to have answered about his son. Whatever went on while young Gil was down there he was sure that it wasn't normal. Not like the other men's sons who played baseball, and spent the day fishing at the lake. As Oliver lifted the cup of coffee to his lips an incredibly loud explosion was heard and the entire house shook on its foundation. Angela grabbed the edges of the table in a death grip and Oliver spit his mouthful of coffee all over his half-read paper.
"Jesus Christ! What the hell was that?!" Oliver yelled as he looked up at his wife. The two looked at each other than immediately down at the floor. They jumped out of their chairs and crossed the kitchen in record time and ran down the basement stairs.
A heavy cloud of dust and smoke filled the basement and Oliver swatted at it as he tried to clear his line of sight. "Gil!" He called out and choked on some of the dust. "Where are you, Gil?"
Gil had been blown backwards from the table but had been lucky enough to land on a pile of blankets that awaited washing. He struggled to breath as the wind had been knocked out of him and he lay in a daze until he saw his parent's figures looming over him. Angela knelt and scooped her son up into her arms.
"What the hell did you do, Gil?" Oliver asked angrily.
Gil seemed to ignore his fathers presence and looked at his mother when he spoke. "I guess those two don't mix."
The next day, after mass, Angela made Gil go into confession. When he complained and asked, "What did I do?" She explained that scaring the hell out of your mother was not obeying the fifth commandment, and it was confession or her hand across his ass when they got home. Gil looked up at her defiantly and said, "No."
The next day Gil walked to the church, as it was too painful to ride his bike, and knelt in the confessional box.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession."
"Tell me, child, what have you done?"
"I didn't believe my mother."
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A/N: As for the end, just call it my take on the beginning of his dislike of 'religion.'
Have a great day everyone:)