Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or CSI: Miami. Stop grilling your underpants!

Happy almost Halloween! I'm going to trick-or-treat (even though I'm getting older) and I'm going to throw rocks at people who don't answer the door, and people who just leave a bowl of candy out, I'm going to take all the candy AND the bowl. Naw, just kidding about the last stuff. Or am I?

"Green October Fall Out Killer Gorilla All-American Red Jumpsuit Raconteur Starship-escence. That's the name of our victim's rock band." Catherine said.

"That's a mouthful," Grissom said in response.

"Or you can call them GOFOKGAARJRSE for short."

Delko stood up, excited. "Let's go nail these suckers!"

Speedle looked up at him. "Delko…what did we say about sugar intake?"

"Um…it'll make your ears bleed?"

"No, that's listening to Johnny Mathis. If you don't cut down on sugar, you'll ruin another case, and then everyone's pay will be cut down, and then-"

"And then I'll get beaten and robbed for the compensation by you guys. I know." Delko whined and pouted, slumping far down into his seat.

"I got beaten and robbed by a piggy-man just the other day!" Greg stated.

"Yeah, Greg looked like crap." Nick said, not looking up from the case file. He turned to Grissom. "Our guy was the bassist in the band. Warrick spoke with a couple of the members the other day, and-"

"Wait, when did he do that?" Grissom asked.

"Didn't you hear me? Other Day. Anyway, we're going to meet up with the band sometime soon, but from what we can hear, they don't really think our faceless victim pulled his weight in the band."

"Oh, and get this!" Sara walked in and jumped into their conversation. "In their garage, we found blood on the ground using the blood finder doohickey! There's both blood of the victim and of the lead singer and rhythm guitarist of the band. Also, we found the drummer's semen."

"Looks like our victim was missing more than a beat." Grissom turned to the others. "He was missing some blood, too."

Everyone just stared at him blankly. Grissom turned around and crossed his arms. "Damn that stupid fortune cookie…"

"Quick," Horatio called, in a perfect Ben Stein impression (that's how emotionless he was), "to the Caine-Mobile!"

Greg put down the Barbie doll he had been dismembering with a melon baller. "O-kay!"

"You left the Caine-Mobile in Miami," Speedle pointed out, trying and failing to fog up a mirror with his breath.

"Damn. To the GrissoMobile instead."

At this, Grissom looked triumphant.

"Damn, the GrissoMobile is so much better than the Caine-Mobile!" Calleigh commented as she and the rest of the Miami team stepped inside the GrissoMobile.

"How do we all fit inside this thing, both complete teams?" Speedle asked.

"Good question. But I don't care." Grissom responded. "Now where are we going?" He turned to Sara, who was riding shotgun. "Starbucks?"

"Nooo…" Sara looked at a map (strangely enough, it wasn't of Las Vegas, it was of a plaza in a small town somewhere in North Carolina). "It's 5550 Debauchery Lane."

Grissom stopped the car and looked at Sara. After about a minute, he spoke again. "To Starbucks it is!"

Cheers were heard from the back. Sara looked exasperated. She sighed. "Look, Gil, we need to…" She stopped. "What are you doing?"

Grissom was revving the engine and continuously glancing back at forth from the red street light and the person next to him. "Sara dearie, I can win this! Do you know how fast this thing can go?"

"Yay!" Greg said in response. "Go fast!"

"Go fast! Go fast!" The Miami CSIs (except for Horatio) cheered Grissom on.

Grissom stopped revving the engine. "I can't, the house where our victim lived is ten feet away." Grissom pulled in the driveway.

"Yay!" Greg said. "No, wait…not yay! We didn't even get to go to Starbucks and get that dark drink that makes my ears buzz!"

CHA.

'Kay bye.