The perils of Washing up

Went to Dels last night for a rehearsal we're playing Christmas Eve. But just as we were thinking of starting Del got a phone call from his mother. That was going to keep him tied up for an hour at least so I dived into the kitchen. I thought I'd just do him a favour by doing the dishes. Diane was working last night and Del was stuck on the phone. So I rolled up my sleeves I set to washing the cups and plates and dishes etc.

Feeling pleased with myself I turned round to find Del standing in the doorway with a gun. He'd finished on the phone.
"Step away from the sink Mike."
Shit! was it loaded? God I didn't realise talking to his mother would make him this crazy.
"Put down the T-towel, and step away from the sink." He was firm in his tone. The gun levelled at my chest. "Step away, now!"
I looked for a sign that he might be joking. But his hand didn't waver, the gun still pointing at my chest, his eyes fixed in an angry glare.
"I'm just doing a bit of washing up." I pleaded. "What's so bad about that?"
"It's not going to happen."
"Can I just....."
His arm went up a little, I was looking down the barrel. Del was not joking. He wriggled his trigger finger to be ready to shoot.
"OK Del you win. I'm putting the T-towel down."
"Nice and slowly, don't try anything."
With finger tips I placed the T-towel on the worktop.
"Now step away.... See how easy it is? ... Yes just keep on walking toward me and out that door... into my office...no sudden movements or you get it... now sit." I sat. "Now stop fucking about with the washing up and have a beer." he put down the gun, tapped it and grinning said "It wasn't loaded."
"Bastard!"
I hate water pistols.