CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 317
What makes you laugh?
Nothing, really I don’t know what type of question this might be put under. Stupid or idiotic are both equally good titles for files in a cabinet to put them in. If you look back and watch what I do closely you might learn something of you work the few brain cells you have at your disposal. My profession as a CSI does not allow laughter, if I laughed at a murder scene not only would my ass be out the Laboratories doors faster than I could say Microsil and then there would be the extra burden of a possible psychological report to be undertaken to determine whether I had cracked or not. None of which would be necessary because if I ever happened to “slip up” and “laugh” at a crime scene which mind you I never would there would be some feasible logic reason to why such a thing would occur.
Despite that fact my life forces a no laughing policy upon myself I find nothing worthwhile to laugh about at any given time of the day or night, with the exception of Grissom and his temper. That amuses me, the way the man so easily loses his cool, but it is not real laughter as I suspect this question is asking. Laughing at the man is not done for mere idiotic pleasure, I revel in the fact that the man is so short fused, almost to a point where he could and most likely has on numerous occasions called something he should have thought about twice before saying. The man is an endless source of mediocre and solemn entertainment, the way he actually thinks things are going to work out all right in the end. But truly, there is nothing to laugh at, the world provides nothing and thus I do not laugh for there is nothing and no reason to do as such.