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Cialis. That’s what this case would be about. Gil Gruesome always said that every case taught him something new, but this mystery really rammed the wisdom home.
"Waaarrr, children, is just a shot away," sang Greg Slobbers as he drove the SUV to the crime scene along the Vegas strip. Gil looked at the young CSI with his trademark condescending stare, one that was sure to prompt erectile dysfunction even in the youngest, healthiest stud. "You know we have a rule here," he warned.
"But it’s been years!" Slobbers sobbed… and slobbered. "Can’t we please listen to something else for once? Who music! Always The Who music! Day in, day out, and I hear it every week and everywhere – Las Vegas, Miami, New York!"
Gruesome shook his head as his protégé parked, and they got out to review the crime scene in a suite at the Jezebel Casino Hotel. He nodded to his colleagues, Catherine Willowy and Whoawick Brown, as they stepped past the yellow caution tape. "What do you see?" asked Gruesome, ever the teacher.
"There are several pills of some online prescription on the floor," said Greg. "Is it Viagra?"
"Cialis," snapped Gil. "What else do you see?"
"Well, the victim, our own Deputy Sheriff, is naked," answered Slobber. "He’s reaching for his pills, and this indicates he was desperate to have a longer-lasting, firmer erection."
"Don’t forget the drool over his chin, which is usually an indicator he met a hot babe," suggested Whoawick in his usual deadpan. "And he’s wearing his spurs, the big deviant."
"What about his gigantic stiffie?" asked Slobber. "My God, I didn’t know Cialis was that good for erectile dysfunction. I mean he’s really hard!"
"That’s rigor mortis, you moron," said Catherine Willowy, rolling her eyes. "Did we miss anything, Gil?"
"All of you completely ignored the 500-pound anvil dropped on his head," replied Gil. "Plus the noose around his neck and the large axe wedged into his back."
"So there were multiple attackers," said Whoawick thoughtfully.
"Not necessarily," replied Gil. "It could be one massively strong single attacker who’s really thorough. To solve this case, we’ll have to perform a number of tests on the Cialis pills – plus do some really cool zoom-in shots on every disgusting, bleeding wound on the body. Hey, maybe I can figure out time of death by playing with maggots again!"
"Uhh, yeah, we’ll leave that to you," said Catherine.
Back at the lab, Sara Sizzle was boring Captain Jim Brass-ones with anecdotes of her depressing early foster care, while Nick Stroking interviewed a sexy cadaver with his aw-shucks Texan charm. Gil puttered through the hallway, taking Sara’s arm and quietly declaring, "I need you to help me with some tests on Cialis."
"Do you need test tubes?" asked Sara.
"Oh, I have a test tube for you," replied Gil, and with a clever smile he brandished his evidence bag full of Cialis tablets.
"How are we going to test Cialis in here?" whispered Sara. "Our lab is shiny with bitchin’ large computer monitors, sure, but there are too many windows. I mean, jeez, these masters of deduction are pretty slow not to figure out we’ve been getting it on for two years. But even they’ll notice something if we go at it right on the light table. Anyway, why so interested in Cialis?"
Gil lead her into the office where somehow paperwork always got done but no office staff was ever seen. "There are certain Cialis properties I’m interested in – powerful properties. Red, throbbing, engorged properties!"
"I love it when you talk technical," cried Sara.
Soon, the two scientists were frantically shedding lab coats and mating in highly experimental ways, which of course, they filmed with winding, penetrating and completely pointless zoom-ins on microscopic details. Gil insisted they test the bold claim that a single treatment with Cialis could prove effective for up to 36 hours, and Sara decided to thrill her lover with a rare Kama Sutra move that involved tying him to an overhead pipe and lifting his pear-shaped body.
Meanwhile, the bored corpse listening to Nick Stroking in the autopsy room came back to life and desperately clawed for the axe used in the last homicide to try to chop off his own ears. Nick was going on and on about blood samples from the anvil and how Cialis mixed with other prescription drugs can lead to poisoning, blah, blah, blah. He didn’t realize by ordering an online prescription through Edrugstore.com that a doctor would be ensuring he was not taking something that would be unsafe.
Just then, Whoawick and Catherine burst into the room. In truth, Catherine had been hoping for five seasons that Whoawick would be bursting into her, but her colleague – while a cool dude – could be a bit thick.
"Has anyone seen Gil and Sara?" Whoawick asked Nick. (Taking advantage of this distraction, the corpse slid its way back into its storage drawer.) "This whole case has to do with erectile dysfunction, and Brass-ones has pulled in that dominatrix, Lady Heifer, for questioning. We thought Gil would be interested."
"How’s the questioning going?" asked Nick.
At that very moment, they heard the sharp crack of a leather whip and the Captain’s deep yell of pain.
"I think Lady Heifer is now questioning Brass-ones," said Catherine.
They seemed to have another problem. All of the Cialis pills were missing from their evidence containers. This prompted Greg Slobbers to theorize they might have been stolen by the Miniature Killer, since he must be a teeny, tiny murderer. Whoawick, Nick and Catherine rewarded him for his brilliant rationale by making Greg stand under the anvil during forensic "dropping tests."
As Gil and Sara returned to the DNA testing lab, looking flushed and sweaty, the rest of the team sat around, looking morose. "We haven’t learned anything," groaned Whoawick.
"I have," announced Gil. "And it’s all thanks to Cialis. We don’t need to look for the killer anymore. In fact, the killer is in this very room."
There were gasps of surprise, whispers of awe, and at least one satisfied sigh, but that came from Jim Brass-ones, fresh from his interrogation with Lady Heifer.
"It was you," said Gil, turning to his lover. "Our own Sara Sizzle. And the Cialis proved it."
"Gruesome, you’re crazy," replied Sara with an utterly phony incredulous laugh. "I’m just a slightly-built babe with an endearing gap in my front teeth and a loner’s suicidal gloom. Is this how you treat me after two years of bonking like tree monkeys? And for helping you cure your erectile dysfunction?"
There were gasps of surprise, whispers of awe, and at least one groan, which came from Greg Slobbers, who constantly fantasized about Sara out of her lab coat.
"During our long bout of bonking, thanks to Cialis," explained Gil, "you tried that elaborate Kama Sutra move where you lifted my weight, which shows you could carry the anvil – your strength came from years of working out at the gym. Tying me up demonstrated you knew what to do with the noose. But you really betrayed yourself using the axe, because you know Nick and Catherine always like the wet, squishy sound effects when we pull one out of a corpse. You couldn’t help yourself."
"But why, Sara?" asked Whoawick. "Why kill the Deputy Sheriff? And why was he grasping for Cialis pills even as he died?"
"I’ve been two-timing ol’ Gil here," confessed Sara. "I needed a manly man – only the Deputy refused to believe that Cialis was A step above Viagra. When he died, he was tossing the pills away, not reaching for them. Honestly, I dropped the anvil on him in a moment of pure frustration, it was manslaughter not murder."
"Either way, Sizzle, you’re cooked," declared Brass-ones, slapping the cuffs on her. "And by the way, Gil, your fly is open. But nice work."
"Nice work by Cialis," said Gruesome. "And to celebrate, let’s use our centrifuge to make some margaritas…"
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