Off: Okay, so this is my parody story that I had to write because you've got to take a break from angst sometime, so I took one and then some. Spoilers are up to pretty much everything ever covered. Oh, and this is a PG 13 fic but there will be some violence, language, and partial nudity cause you can't have a parody without that. Anyway, here goes.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Conrad Ecklie stalked through the halls of the lab, snooping around to see if anyone was doing anything that could possibly be considered inappropriate. Unfortunately for him, everyone seemed to be doing things in the correct manner, leaving Ecklie feeling unfulfilled and disappointed. It wasn't a good night unless he could bitch at somebody for dumb reasons. What was the point of being a boss if you didn't get to exercise your right to be an asshole?
Ecklie stomped back off to his office to sulk. Nobody respected him. Nobody cared. Nobody thought of him as an important character, worthy of depth, deserving some personal angst. "Well, that is going to change, my friends," Ecklie gloated to himself as he rocked backed in his chair and rubbed his hands together in an evil, snarky fashion. "I disappeared for a couple of years into television oblivion but now I'm back and with a vengeance! I'm going to get rid of Grissom. I'm going to get rid of Sara. I'm going to break the sanity of all of the other CSI's and transform Catherine into my personal bitch, doing everything I want, whenever I want! It'll be perfect. Muahahahahaha!"
Ecklie was so involved in his evil laughter that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him, nor the sound of the gun cocking. Finally, after a few minutes of standing there while Ecklie worked on perfecting his evil laugh, the intruder got bored and stamped their foot loudly. Ecklie turned around in his chair to see the intruder's gun in his face.
"YOU!" Ecklie said.
"Yes," the intruder said, "me. Goodbye, Ecklie."
The gunshot sounded.
Ecklie wasn't found until the next morning because no one cared enough to check earlier, even though several people had heard the gunshot fire from his office. Ecklie's body was lying on the floor by his desk, a bullet hole directly in the center of his forehead.
Grissom walked in with his kit in hand. He looked impassively at Ecklie's body with one raised eyebrow.
Sara followed Grissom into the office and stared at Ecklie. "So someone finally shot him."
Grissom now raised his other eyebrow. "The question is. . .who?"
The audience rolled their eyes at this lame punch line as The Who kicked in before anybody could throw tomatoes at Grissom and his less than stellar puns.