Paul and Tim sat on the couch, watching the t.v. A collection of dirty dishes was piled and spread all around them, but the two didn't notice. Neither was paying much attention to the t.v either - they were busy concentrating on the fact that they were holding hands.
Paul glanced at Tim, only to find that Tim was already looking at him. Paul smiled shyly. Tim moved closer to Paul, so that their arms were touching.
Tim moved in, closer still. Paul didn't resist - in fact he too moved closer. They began to lean towards each other� closer and closer�
CRASH!!!!
The two leapt away from each other, guilty expressions on both their faces, and turned to see what had disturbed them. A huge pile of dishes that had been teetering for several days had finally fallen over. Paul scowled at the cause if the interruption.
Where was Richard? Why hadn't he cleaned up this mess? Paul turned to face Tim, but Tim had found a mirror and was no longer interested.
Feeling cheated, Paul got up and went in search of their designated cleaner. Paul wandered into the kitchen. He peered around, noting that there were more dishes than usual - he thought. Paul hadn't been in the kitchen very often.
Rich wasn't there. Come to think of it, Paul hadn't seen Rich for quite some time. He frowned. He seemed to remember Rich saying something about them being lazy or something�he couldn't exactly recall - Tim had been leering at him.
Paul looked around at the huge mess that had accumulated. Maybe if we clean up some of it, he'll come back, Paul reasoned. He was hungry.
He strode purposefully back to where Tim was still studying his reflection.
"Get up Ferguson," he growled. Tim looked up, surprised. Paul hadn't spoken to him like that for a while. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.
"Cos we're gonna do the dishes," Paul replied and grinned at the horrified expression on Tim's face.
"The dishes!" Tim cried. "But my poor hands! Dish soap is bad for them you know." Paul totally ignored his protests and yanked him to his feet, dragging him into the kitchen.
They looked around them in defeat at the mountains of dishes. There was no way they were all going to fit in the sink. They wouldn't all fit in the bathtub.
Paul scratched his head. Where could they put them? He didn't want to have to do more than one load. He looked around for inspiration, then spotted the window which over looked the swimming pool. An evil grin spread across his face. Of course.
The hotel won't mind, he told himself. They're their dishes anyway. He walked over to the window and looked down. There was no one swimming - good. And it was only five stories down. They could just throw the plates in from here.
Paul told Tim what he had in mind.
"That's brilliant!" Tim cried, happy that he wouldn't get dish soap on his hands. They started to pick up dishes and throw them out the window.
It took several attempts to get their aim right, but they eventually got the hang of it. When there were no more dishes to throw out, Paul and Tim wandered over to the window to have a look see.
"Do you think you should have aimed for that deck umbrella?" Tim asked dubiously. Paul just shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't think you should have thrown that room-service table at the diving board," He replied.
"Hey! How was I supposed to know it wasn't very stable?" Tim protested. "It must've been pretty weak to come off like that�"
They looked around. What else do you do to clean dishes, besides put them in water? Paul headed over to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the dish washing liquid.
"There's not very much here," he pointed out. He glanced up at Tim. "Put your charm to good use and ask everyone on this floor for theirs."
Tim walked out of the appartment, content to be able to use his charm - not to mention not having to touch the yucky soapsuds.
Paul went back over to the window, and began emptying the bottle. He watched curiously as most of it got blown sideways by the slight breeze and ended up all over the sun-baking area. Oh well, he thought. It looked dirty anyway.
He finished off the bottle, and managed to get some in the pool. He looked around for something else to put in, because Tim wasn't back yet. Spotting another detergent-looking bottle by the sink, he wandered over to take a better look. But without his glasses, he couldn't read the label.
"Oh well," he muttered to himself. "It looks like a cleaner."
He turned back to the window and emptied that bottle into the pool as well. His aim was getting better and he got most of it in the actual pool. In fact he had nearly emptied the entire bottle when Tim came back in, his arms full of various cleaners.
"What's that?" Tim asked as he walked up to Paul.
"Don't know," Paul replied, "but it's making a lot of bubbles." Tim leaned over to read the label.
"Bleach," he read slowly. He stood up straight again. "Must be a new one."
Paul just shrugged and emptied the rest of the bottle. Then, one at a time, he took the bottles from Tim's arms and emptied them into the pool as well.
"Now what?" Tim asked, when all the bottles were in a heap on the floor.
"We um, we, um�we make bubbles!" Paul cried. Tim peered at him suspiciously.
"Oh yeah? And how are we gonna do that?" he asked. Paul shook his head at Tim's stupidity.
"We turn on the spa, dickhead! Do I have to think of everything?" he said, exasperated. Tim hung his head and followed Paul out of the room.
It was pretty late at night, so no one was around to see them creep down the stairs, and out to the pool. It was a miracle no one was woken up by the dishes.
Paul turned on the spa, and watched fascinated as millions of bubbles began to appear.
"C'mon Tim," he said finally, yawning. "I'm tired. Let's go to sleep. The staff can dry the dishes tomorrow," he added.
The two DAAS members trudged wearily up to their room, and collapsed in a heap on the floor (having decided that it was dirty, they had thrown the bed and numerous other things out the window with the dishes), and fell asleep before they hit the ground.

"Hey guys!" Richard ran into their hotel room, excited. "Did you what happened last�" he broke off when he saw the mess in the room. His eyes trailed from the lack of furniture, to the pile of detergent bottles by the window, to the few smashed plates that hadn't made it to the window, and finally settled on Tim and Paul, who were just starting to wake up.
"Rich!" Paul greeted his friend groggily, still half asleep.
"What happened?" Rich whispered, his voice filled with awe. He could hardly believe that his two friends were responsible for what had happened.
"We did the dishes," Paul beamed proudly. "You weren't here, so we sort of made it up," he confessed. Rich couldn't help but laugh.
"That was so sweet!" he declared, even as he hurried to pack their things. "But we'd better leave soon, before the staff get here."
"Why?" Tim asked.
"Because�" Rich scanned his brain for an explanation that wouldn't hurt their feelings. "Because they'll want to thank you, and we have to be at a gig in two hours. They'll probably want to give you an award or something, and we don't have time."
"Oh." Tim thought about this. "That's true." He went to help Rich.
Five minutes later they were packed and had left the hotel. Rich turned to the other two.
"Promise me one thing?" The other two looked at him expectantly. "Don't ever do the dishes again? I don't think I could handle the competition."
Tim and Paul grinned at each other, and promised.