Disclaimer: Although one day last week we thought we owned them, it turned out to be a peanut butter sandwich. We do not own CSI but wouldn't mind if someone gave them to us as a present. The first thing we'd do is have a tea party. Although our dog is one, we do not own Underpants Gnomes either. Those are from South Park. The lyrics to O Canada were borrowed directly from Rick Mercer's Talking to Americans. We don't own them, or Rick Mercer, either, and we wish to say, Rick, you're number one. Hopefully, you're not offended by this (Owning people is wrong, by the way). We don't own Right Said Fred, but if we did, we probably wouldn't admit it.
Author's note: First of all, we do apologize for the wait. However, we thought we'd be kinda corny and post this last installment on St. Paddy's Day. Thanks a heap to MadGeorge for the ideas and encouragement and the ballgown. Thanks to Snairah for information of a sensitive nature. Thanks to my place of work for letting me borrow that laptop on which half of this was written. Thanks to sugar for keeping us hyper. Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers for all your wonderful reviews. Thanks to the crazy creepy guy for the crazy creepy Save the Environment video. And finally, thank you to Elvis for He was the King. Shamrock-shaped cybercookies to all.
Conrad Ecklie put the phone down with a frown. Ordinarily, he loved to take calls regarding the night shift. They usually gave him a good excuse to yell at people. This time it was different.
A young entrepreneur had decided to call regarding the press conference that was featured on the news several weeks ago. This young man had made billions in the development of scientific equipment. For some unknown reason, he wanted to share a portion of his wealth with the lab in the form of an upgrade to all their equipment plus a cash donation of one hundred thousand dollars. Ecklie had no choice but to share the news with the team, but he regretted that he could not yell at someone.
"Gather round team, I have some news."
Sara rolled her eyes at Greg who giggled. Ecklie was always announcing minimal changes as if they were matters of great importance. "What now Ecklie?" she asked. "Did we get authorization to change the light bulbs again?" Greg stifled a giggle.
"No, Ms. Sidle, it isn't anything that menial. I am pleased to announce that due to the efforts of the night crew, our lab has been selected to receive equipment updates and a cash donation from Mr. Jordan A. MacCracken. He saw our press conference and wished to donate."
Sara nudged Catherine's arm. "Hey, isn't that the name of the guy who sent those flowers?"
Catherine blushed visibly. "Yes. He also called and asked me out on a date. I think he donated this stuff because he thinks I'm hot."
Ecklie chose to ignore that comment. "Anyhow, you all did an excellent job of maintaining the dignity of the lab. Catherine, you are to be commended for your foresight to have called that conference. The other shifts are reporting a noticeable decrease in contaminated crime scenes."
"Oh, I was just cleaning up a mess. Right, Grissom?"
Grissom looked a little confused. He had gone to a funeral three weeks ago and couldn't remember a thing that happened. For some reason Greg was a bit afraid of him. He was always on edge when they had to work together. It was almost as if Greg expected him to chase after him without warning. He wished he could remember those three days. He and Hodges were also experiencing some strain on their relationship. It was almost as if the lab tech was angry at him for some reason. Maybe he didn't get that job as third production assistant on the Indie film he had applied for. Deciding that he shouldn't admit his ignorance, he just said, "Right, Catherine."
It was a slow night. Some of the older cases had to be tied up, but nothing new came in. The crew started to work on a new Foreman Grill contest. The winner was hands down the drunken "Irishman" known as O'Leary, who had managed to escape to the break room and make meat pies. He had even recorded his entry for posterity. Since the night was so quiet, Sara thought it was the perfect time to show everyone the video tape she had compiled. A quick e-mail to Rick in Canada and a call to some of the bars near the strip allowed her to get the footage she needed.
"Hey Everyone! If you're finished with your cases, I've got something I think you'd all like to see!"
"What is it?" asked Greg with excitement.
"Oh, you'll see."
When everyone had assembled, Sara hit the play button on the VCR. After a few seconds of static, a man with curly hair came on the screen:
"Hello, I'm doing a report on current events in Canada and I'm looking for people to give their opinions about several issues. Do you have the time? It will only take a moment."
The camera angle changed and in the middle of the TV set, dressed in uniforms were their very own Greg Sanders and Warrick Brown. The two looked at each other and shrugged.
"I'm not in any hurry," said Warrick. "Are you Greg?"
Greg thought for a minute. "Well, I did have a hot date with Sara," he said with a wink to the camera. Sara seized the opportunity to punch the real-life Greg in the arm.
The image of Warrick tilted his head. "And by 'hot date' you mean driving her to the Laundromat. Well, in that case I had a hot date with her last week and Catherine had a hot date with her the week before. We have time to answer a few questions."
Catherine laughed.
The curly-haired reporter cleared his throat. "Canadians have recently started to launch protests on the largest suspension bridge in the country, which has been named after our illustrious Chinese-Canadian Prime Minister, Peter Mann. How do you feel about protesters on Peter Mann's Bridge?"
Warrick tilted his head and furled his eyebrows. "They can do whatever they want as long as nobody gets hurt and they respect the other visitors."
Sara paused the tape. "Rick told me that Peter Mansbridge is actually a news anchor on a Canadian news program. There was not Chinese-Canadian Prime Minister."
On the screen, the reporter turned his attention to the image of Greg. "Sir, How much do you know about Canadian politics?"
"Not a lot. I know they have Prime Minister, not a President, but that's about it."
"Well, sir, were you aware that their house of representatives is actually a replica of the Capitol Building in Washington, only constructed entirely out of ice?"
"Cool! It's amazing what people come up with for using what they have. Wouldn't it melt though?"
"Yes, that's the problem. Global warming is having a major effect on the structure. The Canadians like to call it the National Igloo. Would you support a petition that lets Canadians protect their National Igloo?"
"Of course! Where do I sign?"
"I have a petition right here. Would you also like to sign this one asking the Canadian Government to ban the seal hunt in Saskatchewan?"
"Now hold on! What kind of fool do you take me for? Saskatchewan is landlocked. They don't hunt seals there. But I will sign the National Igloo one."
Sara looked at Greg with an incredulous expression on her face. "You know Saskatchewan is landlocked, but you believed that ridiculous National Igloo story?"
"It could happen. It was always cold when me and Papa Olaf used to go for the good beer."
On the screen, Warrick and Greg were singing complete with harmony:
O Canada, a great big empty land
We look to America, for a helping hand.
With Bannock Bread and Caribou Eggs,
The true North big and Cold
O Canada We are on top, We're close to the North Pole.
Fermez la bouche. Mangez Poutine.
Ca-na-da a wondrous winter's dream.
La la la la La la la la laaa laaaaaaa!
It was Nick's turn to look incredulous. "You guys seriously didn't think the Canadian National Anthem ended like that. Haven't you ever watched a hockey game."
Greg shook his head. "Not in a state where I'd actually remember the words. I was usually into the Canadian beer well before the anthem."
Sofia looked confused. "I got the French thanks to what I remember from school, but what's poutine?"
"French fries with gravy and cheese curds," said Greg automatically. When everyone looked at him strangely he got defensive. "What? My sister was addicted to that stuff. It came between the 'I only eat orange food' and the 'I don't eat anything with a face' movements."
On the television screen, the image of the singing CSIs was replaced by the reporter and a sandy-haired man.
"Hey Sara, it was great to hear from you again. I can't believe I caught your coworkers on tape! So you're the Sara the spiky-haired guy was talking about. I can't believe he signed the National Igloo petition when he knew the Saskatchewan Seal hunt was a joke. And he solves crimes now? Didn't you once say he was cute?"
"YESS!" shouted Greg.
"Anyhow, you remember Steve right? 6 months and counting! Thanks for all your advice. That shirt really was hideous on me." In the background, Steve nodded then started to hug the "reporter".
Warrick grinned. "Ha ha! Turned another one Sara!"
"You really should get that gaydar checked, hon," said Catherine.
The image on the tape changed to a grainy image of the outside of a bar. What looked like a redhead, a spiky-haired guy and a mob of very intoxicated party-goers were doing a conga line. After a moment, several stragglers were running away from a familiar tabby cat who then jumped into the van. The scene changed again, showing a man wearing a cape and a lampshade climbing onto the van and striking a superhero pose. He then jumped off and rolled on the ground and then appeared to be having an argument with the lamppost. Another cat appeared and he went into the van. The scene shifted again, this time showing the superhero caught in the blinds. Catherine walked over to him, took off the lampshade and made a face. The man, now revealed to be Grissom, ran off while Ecklie and Nick confiscated numerous musical instruments from a large African-American man wearing a kilt.
All of a sudden, the sound came back to the video. The camera panned out to reveal a man with green body paint wearing ill-fitting women's clothing standing at a make-shift podium constructed from a bench tilted on its side. The man cleared his throat and spoke in falsetto.
"Hello. I'm CATHERINE! Thank you members of the press for coming here on short notice." The camera panned around to reveal four teddy bears, a tabby cat and the legs of someone wearing Converse sneakers. "I have called you here to discuss something of the utmost importance. It is a known threat to all we hold sacred and dear. Our homes are being invaded as we speak. Our children are no longer safe. The threat strikes us when we are at our most vulnerable. I'm talking about Underpants Gnomes.
"You all may be familiar with the Underpants Gnome as depicted by the animated series, South Park. I warn you, this is only one of the many forms that these elves take. They come in disguise. The may resemble inanimate objects such as remote controls and lamps. They may look like your pets. They may even look like your best friends. Anyone or anything can be an underpants gnome ready to strike, leaving you with an unfurnished basement. Wait! There's one now! The camera man! GET HIM, he's after Catherine's…no MY…underpants! I'LL GET YOU! YOU GNOME! I'M CATHERINE!"
The camera appeared to be tipped on its side. All of a sudden, you could see the high-topped sneakers pass in front of the screen, followed by stumbling hairy legs wearing heels that were much too small for them. There was some muffled screaming in the background as a tabby cat carried a thong straight up to the camera. The extreme close up of the cat caused Greg to shriek and topple over. The cat extended its paws and hit the camera a few times. Then everything went dark.
"Say," said Sara, "That reminds me. I need a new bra. Greg, can you come shopping with me? After all, you are an underwear elf."
"That's 'Underpants Gnome' to you," Greg said with a sulk.
"Ha! You admit it!" said Sara.
"I'm coming too, right?" said Nick.
No one had realized that Ecklie had entered the room. "Sidle! Did you just invite your male coworkers to go underwear shopping with you?"
"Not all of them, sir." Sara was contemplating asking if he was jealous when the image on the TV changed again. There, on the screen, turning on the stereo and trying on a really bad toupee was their very own Conrad Ecklie. In a strange, almost hypnotic movement, he shimmied around to Right Said Fred's megahit, I'm Too Sexy. At the final bar of the song, Ecklie jumped in front of the camera as if to give it the best possible view of the slight bit of skin revealed at the top of his pants, which had slipped slightly due to the shimmying.
Grissom was incredibly relieved not to be the stupidest looking person on the tape. Ecklie, however, was in the process of turning magenta. On his way out the door, he turned back, and yelled, "Burn that tape!"
Grissom called after him, "At least they got your good side, Conrad!"
The End.