Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or Otto Titsling
Sara Sidle walked slowly toward the garage. Mostly because the music coming forth from the garage was not the Manson that she usually heard. This could only mean one thing. Greg was up to something.Yes, definitely up to something, because as she got nearer, she heard him start to sing with the music. “Otto Titsling, inventor and kraut, had nothing to get very worked up about.” Sara wrinkled her nose. What the heck kind of music is this? She thought.
Just as she reached the door, Greg started to bellow the next verse causing Sara’s eyes to widen and Grissom to come out to see what the racket was.
“What is that?” Grissom asked.
Sara shushed him. “Greg is singing about boobs.”
Grissom raised an eyebrow. “You think we should give him his space?”
Sara glared. “No, I think he’s lost his mind.”
Greg was singing to the rafters again much to the surprise of his co-workers. They hadn’t a clue that he could get any louder. “Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit, done in by the weight of those terrible...”
“What’s going on?” Nick asked.
“Shhhhhhh!” Grissom and Sara exclaimed.
Nick didn’t get the point. “Is that Greg?”
“No it’s the muffin man, please be quiet!” Grissom snapped
“For Otto Titsling had found his quest: to lift and mold the female breast...” Greg sang.
“Grissom!” Catherine yelled from down the hall.
It was Grissom’s turn to glare, while the others put a finger to their lips and waved her over.”
Puzzled, Catherine hurried over.
“Every night he'd sweat and snort searching for the right support. He tried some string and paper clips. Hey! He even tried his own two lips!”
Nick snorted. “Where did he dig this up?”
“Yo, Guys! Why are you huddled like that?” Warrick said as he walked towards him. The he heard the music. “Are you listening to Beaches?”
Grissom’s eyes widened. “That’s what this is from?”
“Who cares, will you please be quiet!” Sara snapped.
“Yes!” They heard Greg shout. “He had invented the worlds first over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!”
“Ohmigod...” Catherine muttered. While the other’s snickered.
“Who would sing this?” Grissom asked.
“Well,” Warrick said. “That would be Greg and Bette Midler.”
“This is Bette Midler?” Nick asked.
“Okay, I thought she always did girly songs.” Nick stated.
“Well, Greg doesn’t think they’re girly.” Grissom added.
“That’s because he is girly.” Hodges added as he walked up.
“Shut up, all of you!” Sara warned with a glare.
They could hear Greg continue. “...of the French patent thieves, Philippe DeBrassiere. And Phil was watching the scene with a great deal of interest!”
“I can’t believe we are listening to a song about titsling’s and brassieres.” Catherine muttered
“We aren’t, but Greg is.” Nick pointed out.
Sara huffed. “Then why are you standing there with your ear glued to the door.”
“He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore, 'til he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.”
Captain Brass walked up and gave them a long hard stare. “Do I want to know?”
Grissom took his ear away from the door long enough to shake his head. “Probably not.
Brass smirked and pushed his way through the crowd of crime scene investigators and proceeded to open the door. There was Greg dancing around the garage.
“Every woman in the world will wanna buy one. I can have all the goods manufactured in Taiwan."
His audience gathered just inside the door trying to hold in their laughter and failing miserably. Even Grissom had a hard time keeping a straight face. Finally Greg twirled around, caught sight of everyone and stopped dead in his tracks. Unfortunately for him, he had already built up too much momentum and plummeted to the ground.
Grissom lost it. He along with everyone else was laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. As the last remnants of the song wafted through the air.
“The result of this swindle is pointedly clear: Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere?”