Matt Hazard

Bear with me, this story is a tiny bit gross, but I’ll do my best to deliver it in the most digestible way possible. Pun somewhat intended.

The year was 2002. I was barely out of high school, people weren’t yet ashamed of Nickelback, and 6 and 7 were nothing more than numbers to be taken at face value. My parents had left for the weekend and gave me simple instructions – no parties. So naturally, I called up a couple of friends who came over for a few beverages.

At the time, I was in my early years of drinking. I was only aware of my own tolerance and, therefore, completely unaware of my friend’s, who later on decided it was best to leave what he had consumed on the floor before he cabbed home.

This put me in a bit of a pickle.

It was Saturday night, and my parents would be home the next morning. I knew I had to clean it up, and time wasn’t on my side. With each passing minute, it would get more difficult to clean. My friend – the one who shared his daily menu with us – was unable to help as he was sleeping off his condition. My other friend wanted no part in the mess, citing ‘Look dude, this ain’t my house. I feel for ya, but fuck no.’ I don’t blame him, I’d have said the same.

Losing time, I made the decision to act quickly while there was still beer in the fridge. Donning a pair of rubber dish gloves and two rolls of paper towels, I got to work. And, to my surprise, got the bulk of it handled pretty quickly.

But there was still one problem. The stain.

Try as I did, there was no household spray on hand to remove the discolouring of the carpet. I thought about leaving it, but thought better. Then a solution hit me. Mom was always saying something about hot water lifting dirt from dirty dishes, and how easy it was in an attempt to get me to wash my own dishes, so why couldn’t that logic apply here? I have it a whirl.

Armed with a kettle full of boiling water and a bottle of Sunlight dish detergent, I let the carpet have it. And to my utter surprise, it worked.

It worked so well in fact, that it returned the carpet to its original white colouring, which puzzled me, because I had always thought the carpet was grey. Satisfied with myself, I drank my next Labatt Lite as if it were the champagne of victory.

My parents arrived home the following day, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, began to comb the house for any evidence of disobedience. It didn’t take long before they found some.

“Matthew, did you have a party here?” Mom asked.

“Whatever do you mean, mother?” I didn’t say verbatim. I like to paraphrase with how I imagine other well trained kids speak to their parents when interrogated.

“Why is there a stain on the carpet next to the couch downstairs?” She’d go on.

“Mom, what you’re actually seeing isn’t a stain,” I protested. “What you’re looking at is the single cleanest part of the entire basement floor. The carpet is dirty around that mark.”

And that was true. That little trick of squeezing Sunlight dish detergent on the carpet and flushing it with boiling water was magic. A little too good, as I had found out. They held me to the fire and I had to recreate the magic before them so they’d believe me. Without the liquor, of course.

Obviously, piecing together the story I told them coupled with the empty bottles in the garage, they knew that I did indeed host a gathering. And it would have been okay too if they hadn’t found the vacuum cleaner in the state I’d left it in.

Yeah, I deliberately left that part out. What, did you think paper towels would be enough to clean such a mess? No, I had help. And no, it wasn’t a wet vac. That’s about as much detail as I’m willing to diverge.

Long story short, I got caught for having a non-sanctioned party in the basement of my parents’ house because I cleaned the floor too good using a magic method of Sunlight dish detergent and boiling water. And I had to buy them a new vacuum.