Tired, sick, discouraged, Grissom sat on his sofa, trying to think of something soothing. His cell phone rang and renewed irritation shot through him. He let it ring once, then reluctantly picked it up. When his eyes noted the caller ID, Grissom perked up and smiled. He flipped open the phone as he stretched out, tucking his free arm behind his head as he brought the cell up to his ear. “Hi . . . “ he breathed happily.



1) The voice at the other end of the line cooed into his ear, huskily. “Hi there. It’s me, Iris.”

“Ah yes, Iris Oratoria. I’ve been hoping you’d call,” Grissom replied with a sigh. He closed his eyes, thinking of her, with her sleek green body and hungry eyes. The voice spoke again.

“Oh you knew I would, you big sexy, insect lover. You’re our hottest, best client, you stud, and you make all of my legs quiver. I’d eat you after mating in a decapitating minute, baby.”

Grissom gave a happy groan, and mentally reminded himself to renew his subscription to The Bug Lust Line for another month.

2) The voice at the other end of the line cooed into his ear huskily. “Yo, Papi amante de insecto. Wha’ chu wearin?”

Grissom sighed, closing his eyes, thinking of Alvarado with his hot, dark eyes and bizarre irrepressible infatuation for middle-aged bibliophilic entomologists. “The same thing you saw me in two hours ago outside your jail cell.”

“Oooooh, caliente, baby! Sorry ‘bout almost killin’ you at my place. That was for your homeboy.”

“I figured. The answer is still no, though. You’re a stone cold killer with more tattoos than a Standford drumline and I’m a repressed ex-Catholic with no interest in homosexuality. It could never work.”

“Oh don’ talk like that, Amor! I knew you’d find a way to keep me right where you wan’ me, baby---“

Grissom gave a frustrated sigh and mentally reminded himself to change his phone number. And address. And gender, possibly.

3) The voice at the other end of the line cooed into his ear huskily. “Wooof, woof woof, woof Aoooooooooohhhh!”

Grissom sighed and set the phone on the floor, mentally reminding himself to get Hank his own cell phone; these long distance calls to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm were getting out of hand.

4) The voice at the other end of the line cooed into his ear huskily. “Hello Mr. Grissom. This is the Henderson Ikea rent-a-center, and we’d like to set up a time to collect our furniture please?”

He glanced around wistfully. “Could I extend the contract for another three months?”

“We go through this every time, don’t we Mr. Grissom? Very well. We can renew your rental agreement for the Kitchen Set, the Blondewood shelving units and the Ektorpe sofas for another ninety days, but this is the last time. My manager says that you must buy the stuff by then or we will be arriving on your doorstep to collect our wares.”

Grissom sighed and mentally reminded himself to change to locks on his loft.

5) The voice at the other end of the line cooed into his ear huskily. “Is it true? Is it really as bad as everyone says?”

“Yes, David it is. Didn’t work for Nick, and it’s not working for you.”

“I can’t tell the wife—it will kill her!”

“So don’t, unless you want to see her in a professional capacity. I can lend you my straw hat.”

There was a pause. “Thanks a lot. I thought you were my friend.”

Grissom sighed and mentally reminded himself not to give his number out to insecure assistant coroners.