Dead Banana
by channelD

written for: The NFA Skills Workshop #9: Humor. The aim is to write a humorous piece.
rating: K plus
genre: Humor (I hope)
characters: T mostly Tim, Ziva and Gibbs; a Tony, Ducky, Abby, Jenny
author's note: Anything featuring Tim without a shirt has to have "Dead" in the title. That's the only reason why the title is what it is.

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disclaimer: As of when I woke up this morning, I still own nothing of NCIS.

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Tim was at work early that day, trying to catch up on a report that he had to turn in before he could go on a short vacation. He crouched before his desk, tugging on a stubborn computer cable that seemed to have gotten caught on something. What that could be, he didn't know.

A movement of a brown head of hair raced across his upper field of vision. "Tony, is that you? Give me a hand here, would you? Get down on the other side of my desk and see what this cable is caught on."

"Eek!"

" 'Eek', what? Did you see a mouse, you old fraidy-cat?"

"Eek!"

"Tony…"

"Ahahahahahah!"

"What's so funny? And what's wrong with your voice?" Tim raised his head carefully, wary of having a prank pulled on him. Instead, all he saw was the fast movement of a hairy arm grabbing for his cup of coffee. "Hey! Give that back! You don't even like coffee the way I take…it…" His voice ran out as it occurred to him that something was peculiar. He didn't remember Tony's bare arms being that hairy… "Tony…?"

"Tony is not here yet, I do not believe," said a voice, clearly Ziva's. "Is something wrong, McGee?"

Tim raised himself a little. "I'm not sure. I thought I saw…"

"Blechh!!" With this cry from somewhere, Tim's partially-full coffee cup came flying back at him, hitting him in the chest.

While Tim hollered at being hit with hot coffee, Ziva dove to the floor. "That came from under your desk, McGee!"

She then exclaimed in Hebrew, and shot back up. Faster than her was the brown shape that went by her like a bullet, and leaped onto her desk, and grabbed her coffee. "That is not Tony," she said. "At least, I do not think it is."

"It's a monkey," said Tim, in wonder.

"Tony has changed into a monkey??" Cautiously she approached the creature. It wore a polo shirt in a color that Tony might favor.

"Blechh!" said the monkey after one swallow of Ziva's coffee. It threw the cup at her, but she narrowly dodged it.

"That reminds me—arrgghh!" Tim screamed as Ziva's near-scalding hot coffee hit him, and he ran for the men's room for cold water.

"If you are Tony, no wonder you do not care for my coffee," she scolded the monkey lightly. "Our tastes are different."

Tim reappeared quickly, shirtless, his rinsed-out shirt in hand. "I'm in trouble," he moaned. "I don't have a spare shirt here."

"Perhaps Tony does," said Ziva.

Tim eyed the grinning monkey. "I don't think that would fit me. Besides, he probably has fleas."

Gibbs walked in briskly, a cup of coffee in hand, as usual. He did a double take on seeing bare-chested Tim. "McGee, you are taking 'business casual' too far."

"Boss, it's not what you think…!"

"It never is," Gibbs muttered, sitting down. "Where's DiNozzo?"

"He, uh…he is there. At his desk," Ziva said worriedly. "Somehow he—"

"Where?" Gibbs demanded. Tony's desk was now vacant. Ziva and Tim stared, and suddenly Gibbs yelped as the monkey jumped onto his desk and grabbed his coffee. The monkey took a gulp of it while Gibbs watched, speechless. Then the monkey made a face, blew a raspberry at Gibbs and threw the coffee cup at Tim, who screamed again as hot liquid burned his skin. Tim ran back to the men's room.

"Bad Tony!" Ziva scolded. "Bad, bad Tony! That is not nice at all!"

The monkey only grinned again, and hopped off the desk before Gibbs could grab it. "Why do you call it 'Tony'?" Gibbs said, meeting Ziva's wide eyes. "Or is this one of those things I'm going to regret asking?"

"Gibbs, you must stay calm. I have something shocking to tell you, so remain seated. Tony…is a monkey."

A beat, then another. "I'm waiting for the shocking news," said Gibbs.

"No! I mean, Tony is this monkey! See, he even wears one of Tony's shirts!"

"Ziva, that's impossible!"

"No, he fits into the shirt quite well, somehow. Besides wearing the shirt, there are the pranks he played on us with the coffee and McGee's computer cables. That is classic Tony." She nodded her head in emphasis.

Tim returned, rinsed off again, though his chest was noticeably reddened. "Ow. Boss, I—" He staggered.

"Sit down," Gibbs said, leaping up to help him. "Ziva, call Ducky. Ask him to bring up some burn ointment."

"Shall I call Abby, too?"

"Why Abby?"

"She might have a banana for Tony."

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Abby swept out of the elevator, with Ducky. She took one look at shirtless Tim, smiled and licked her lips, then forced herself to become serious. "Who died?" she asked.

"No one, yet," said Gibbs. "DiNozzo's a possibility if he doesn't get his ass in here quickly. Why?"

Abby's eyes gleamed. "It's just that every time Tim becomes…upper-half-nekkid here, someone dies. He's like a perverse-yet-sexy banshee that way."

Gibbs turned to Ducky as Tim grinned. "Do you have anything that combats drooling? Abby needs it."

Abby pretended to pout, but then shrieked as a hairy hand snatched her Caf-Pow! "Step aside, McGee," Ziva warned. "Though this will be sticky rather than hot."

"Good heavens!" said Ducky.

"Hey, you! Give that back! That's mine!" said Abby.

The monkey didn't throw back the soft drink, however. After one sip, it grinned. After three sips, it bounced up and down, warbling. Then it chugged the last of the drink, tossed the cup to Abby, climbed into her arms and kissed her, then went racing around the squad room, yelling.

"Tony! Come back here! We have work to do!" cried Ziva.

"Why do you call it 'Tony'?" asked Ducky. He started to smear ointment on Tim's chest.

"Oooo, can I help with that?" asked Abby.

Ducky saw Tim's grin, shrugged in an I-give-up manner and handed her the ointment tube. "Why do you call it 'Tony'?" he asked Ziva again.

"Duck, you don't want to know, said Gibbs.

"No, actually, I do."

"This is our Tony," said Ziva. "He has somehow changed into a monkey."

"Seriously, dear girl; an educated woman like yourself cannot believe that."

"She believes in ghosts," Tim remarked.

"Ghosts I can understand. But monkeys are not part of the paranormal. They're just…funny." He laughed as the monkey swiped Ziva's swoop hat from her desk.

"That is such a Tony thing to do," said Ziva. "Though I have never seen him have this much energy."

"That's really Tony?" Abby said, eyes wide, hands still on Tim's chest although she was done with the ointment. "Cool!"

"We need to change him back!" said Ziva. "He cannot stay a monkey forever!"

"Aside from the fact that he can't drive the truck in this condition, and I'd never let him near a gun, I don't notice any difference," said Gibbs.

"But if you change him back now, he'll be only wearing a shirt," Abby protested, then brightened. "Tim, you could—"

"No, Abby; I am not taking off my pants because of Tony—dang it; now we're all talking like this monkey is really DiNozzo!"

She looked disappointed, and reached into a pocket of her lab coat. "Well, anyway, you guys asked me to bring up a banana. Here it is. Tony!" she called. "Come get nice yellow curved fruit!!"

The monkey did another two laps before jumping back into Abby's arm. It seized the banana and jumped onto Tim's desk to eat it. Moments later, it was sound asleep and snoring.

Jenny came down the stairs to the squad room then. "Jethro, there's an alert out around the Yard for a monkey from the CIA's testing area. It was being transported in a van and escaped. We should—Oh." She eyed the sleeping primate. "I should have known that everything winds up with your team. I'll call the CIA to come pick it up." She reached for her cell phone, dialed, and hung up shortly afterwards, looking puzzled. "They think they have their monkey back."

"So maybe you are not Tony," Ziva mused, looking at the monkey. "I think I knew that all along. The eye color is wrong."

"Will do." Tim clicked off his cell phone. "Boss, I just spoke to Tony. The real one," he added. "He says the CIA has taken him prisoner in a van. He wants us to rescue him. And he has a craving for bananas."

Gibbs considered, looking at the monkey. "There's only room for one Tony on my team," he said. "I really hate having to make these decisions…"

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