Somebody has to do it.

Somebody Has to Do It

It was going to be a dirty job. But the two of them, Bill and Joan, had volunteered to do it, knowing full well what would be involved, and how disgusting it might prove to be. They felt that they owed Stan, the host, as he had introduced them to each other, played the matchmaker at a previous party a few weeks back. They were now a couple.

Stan’s house was the sole building of a short dead end street, so the loud noises of his parities were not complained about by any neighbours. Some of them were even asked to attend, which the more adventurous of them did.

Stan would leave his own party at about midnight, take his latest girl friend with him to a posh hotel/spa on the other side of town and spend the rest of the night and next day there. He had the lights programmed to turn off at precisely one o’clock in the morning. Ten minutes later the doors would lock. Everyone knew that and followed the rules. They wanted to be asked back to the next party.

 Bill and Joan were to arrive sometime late in the morning, and clean the whole place up. So when Stan returned that night, his place would be completely clean, immaculate. And the inevitable great supply of garbage, including the usual amount of broken and ripped objects, would be put in garbage bags to be stored in the shed behind the garage.  Bill and Joan would not be paid for this, but they would definitely be in Stan’s good books. Stan was an influential man in town, a good person to have on your side. And he had introduced them to each other.

The Party

The party had many people there, ranging from underage drinkers to overage partyers. One of the latter group was early on rather drink wobbly, and went out to the backyard, so he wouldn’t bump into anyone. There was music for at least three generations, quite loud,  and, naturally, alcohol galore, some of it of Stan’s making. Of course, there were gobs of Stan’s version of party food, including a creative collection of different sorts of mac and cheese, that did not look or taste much the same.

           Bill and Joan danced, drank, and ate throughout the early part of the night, but left early so that they could spend a little time alone together, and also be fit for the following morning’s hard work.     

The Morning After: Sights and Smells

They came the next morning prepared for the worst. And that was what greeted them. They had work to do before they even entered the house. Someone had vomited some strangely blue mac and cheese all over a bush of red roses. Even with their ready supply of mops, buckets, rags, and garden gloves, this took a little time. Fortunately, there was a hose nearby. Both of them got a little wet in the process, but that didn’t matter to them, they were doing something together.

Once they unlocked the front door (Stan had given them a key) and walked inside, they were very glad that Stan had a very powerful vacuum system. There was a lot of  serious sucking to do. In order to ease the tension of all the cleaning that they would have to be doing, they had the night before, when they were alone, developed a game that they could play with each job that they would have to do. They were quite creative that way, one reason why they got along so well, right from the beginning. 

They would rank each cleaning job from one to ten in how horrible it was. The blue vomit on the red-flowered rosebush was an easy 7.1. They did not want to begin the ranking too high at first, as they both believed that would mean that they would have to start scoring with numbers over ten before they were finished. 

The living room carpet, with its potato chips, small pieces of broken glass and ripped paper (why?), and the odd spilled beer they both felt was only a six. It was difficult to get the chocolate ice cream out (“It is ice cream isn’t it Bill?) of the nooks and crannies of the big couch, so it was a 7.5., no question.

The scores would soon rise when they walked up the stairs to the second floor. They knew that bedrooms had been used, as they had seen couples ascending the steps hand in horny hand.  Three used condoms on the green bed sheets of the first bed they encountered was definitely an 8.0, just on the disgusting thoughts that entered their minds concerning how that number had been achieved. 

But the upstairs bathroom ranked the highest of all. How could people miss the toilet by that much when they rid themselves of a variety of body fluids and soft solids? It was at least half an hour before they made it a room that a sober human being would want to enter. It seemed much longer. A lot of air freshener was used. It hung in the air like mist in spring.

Finally, after two hours of cleaning, they sat down on the now ice-cream free couch.

They hugged each other. A disaster shared can be bonding. Then Bill asked the inevitable male questions, “Are we done yet? Can we leave now?” Joan thought for a few seconds, and then said, “We need to take the garbage bags out to the shed out back. And while we are there, I suppose we should check the backyard for party debris.”

In for a Shock

           They lugged the bagged trash out to the shed. But they would soon discover that their work was not over. Two pairs of a man’s large jockey shorts were suspended from the branch of a tree that was situated by the ‘condom room’ as they were now calling it.  With a ladder and a stick, Bill retrieved the briefs, and joked “Too bad they’re not my size” before he tossed both pairs into a garbage bag that Joan held wide open for him.

           But they would soon be in for a shock, which took a few long seconds to sink in. Joan looked over at the garden in the far side of the shed, and said, in a much amused fashion, “Look, someone tossed a man’s pants into the bush.” But when they walked in that direction, they both yelled out, “It’s a body.”

           They ran towards it. It was one of the old men that had been at the party, the one who had walked outside during the early hours of the party.. Joan, having taken a first aid course, checked for breathing and a heartbeat, and eventually found both. “He is still alive.”

           Bill eased the man out of the bush, while Joan called 911. The ambulance arrived in a short time. The old man was saved.

           They would have a story to tell at the next party. And they wouldn’t volunteer to clean u ever again. Still, someone has to do it.