"Dirt
is
a murder mystery with only one suspect and a cop with an
agenda. Ron harnesses all of his sharp tongued wit
and keen ear for a good story in this cutting look at what
happens when society gives itself permission to get rid of
its "undesirables". A wickedly funny play, not for
the faint of heart." -from the Theatre Network season
brochure.
Dirt
centers
around an unemployed welfare recipient named Murphy. At the
beginning of the play, his girlfriend has died in a house
fire. Murphy is immediately accused of arson and of killing
her, and is placed under a strange house arrest where an
electronic transmitter is implanted in his buttocks, and
another welfare recipient is given the "job" of guarding
him in his own home while the police "gather evidence".
This is scene five from the first act. In it, Mrs. Boras, a
rural busybody, drops by with some home made cabbage rolls
and perogies, catching Greta, the woman who has been put in
charge of watching over Murphy, unawares.
(The kitchen. Empty. There is a knock
on the door. Another knock. MRS. BORAS opens the door and
tries to come in. It is chained. She looks around the
kitchen from behind the door. She looks at the bag on the
kitchen table with the underwear in it. She looks at the
sink. She looks at the fridge. She does all this carefully.
It is hard to determine if she is showing distaste at what
she sees or not. GRETA comes in to the kitchen. GRETA
doesn't see MRS. BORAS. She gets a glass of water. She
stands drinking it. MRS. BORAS watches her, then speaks,
startling GRETA so that she drops the water.)
BORAS: Who are you?
GRETA: Who are you?
BORAS: I'm from around here. You're not. You're the
stranger. You answer. Who are you?
GRETA: I'm working here.
BORAS: So am I. Let me in. Undo this chain. I have a heavy
load here.
(GRETA
undoes the chain but stands in front of the
door.)
GRETA: Ma'am I carry a gun.
BORAS: I have a rifle in the truck. You want to shoot it
out?
GRETA: I'm an officer of the law.
BORAS: An officer of the law! Good God. I don't believe it.
Where's your badge? Eh? Come on. I want to see your badge.
Some ID. Even the milkman carries ID. nowadays so you ought
to have some on you get it out. And I want to know what
you're doing here in John's house.
GRETA: His girlfriend was murdered.
BORAS: I am familiar with this information. Is her corpse
blocking the door? (GRETA moves.)
Good God! What it takes
nowadays. So. Who are you? His new girlfriend? Moving in
fast. You must be a slut.
GRETA: I'm watching him.
BORAS: Why?
GRETA: He's a suspect.
BORAS: Of what?
GRETA: Of the murder.
BORAS: He is?
GRETA: Yes.
BORAS: Good God.
GRETA: How well do you know him?
BORAS: Very well.
GRETA: You'd be the only one that seems to know him well
besides...
BORAS: Besides her. (She calls.) John?
GRETA: What are those?
BORAS: These are cabbage rolls. I make cabbage rolls and
perogies. Would you like to order some? Ready every
Wednesday. I deliver.
GRETA: Can I look in there please?
BORAS: What?
GRETA: I need to look in there.
BORAS: You don't trust me?
GRETA: It's just policy.
BORAS: You can go to hell!
GRETA: Please...
BORAS: Just go right on home to hell!
GRETA: (Giving
up.) Perogies?
BORAS: It's a Wednesday isn't it?
GRETA: Murphy--John--eats out.
BORAS: Not on Wednesdays he doesn't. Not on Thursday
mornings either. He likes 'em cold. For breakfast.
(She pulls a couple of
foil pans out of the paper bag and shows GRETA that they
are indeed perogies and cabbage rolls.)
See. You can trust me. Look
at those beauties. Look at the form. Look at the texture. I
can put you down. Let me put you down. How many?
GRETA: I'm not sure...
BORAS: Let's start with a dozen cabbage. Work your way up
to more once your constitution has adjusted itself, if you
know what I mean.
GRETA: I'm not sure I'll be here next week.
BORAS: I deliver. (Calling.) JOHN!! (To GRETA:) Is he giving you a hard time? I know he
comes across like a big dink at times, a raging, snorting,
mad skunk of a man.
GRETA: He's so surly. He's so--
BORAS: Just give him a slap in the head.
GRETA: I really don't think--
BORAS: A slap in the head! He'll take it, and it'll shut
him up for an hour or two. He'll take it from you. From me.
Won't take it from a man. No. But he'll take it from a
woman. He knows his place when a woman is around.
GRETA: I'd like to... I'd like to see you do that before I
try...
BORAS: You might get the chance. Depends on what kind of
mood he's in. Just depends on that. JOHN!!! GET THE GOD
DAMN HELL OUT HERE!!
(She kicks
the wall.) COME
ON OUT! I BROUGHT YOUR PEROGIES AND YOUR CABBAGE ROLLS.
IT'S WEDNESDAY. COME ON OUT!!
MURPHY: (Entering.) Jesus Christ! What the hell do you want?
BORAS: Where's your money? Eh? Get your money out!
(She starts pawing him,
feeling for his wallet, feeling everywhere.)
Eh? Come on ya God Damn
cranky old snort! You owe me six bucks!
MURPHY: I'm sick of these things! I told you that before! I
don't want to eat these shitty things no more!
BORAS: Come on!
MURPHY: Get them out of here! I ain't paying you for them!
I don't want them!
BORAS: You can't eat cheese deluxes for the rest of your
life ya horn sucker!
MURPHY: FUCK OFF! I don't want the fucking things! Get out
of here! FUCK OFF! Fuck off or I'll kick your god damn fat
ass out through the door. You and your god damn doughy old
perogies and your gut bloatin' cabbage rolls. Get 'em out
the door! Get them and your thirsty twat out the door!!
(She slaps
him across the head.)
BORAS: Don't you ever say words like those to me. What do
you think I am? Some old cow you can kick around the
pasture? Huh? Huh? Huh? Some whore that you can treat like
crap? I have three sons and a daughter. Three sons and a
daughter! And if any of them heard those words I'll tell
you they'd be out here and they would BEAT YOU TO A CRISP
MISTER! Imagine that. Saying words like those to me. Good
God. (Silence.) You going to eat those?
(Silence.)
Huh? You want me to leave
them? (Silence.) YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE THEM OR NOT?
MURPHY: Ya.
BORAS: You owe me six bucks. (Silence.) YOU OWE ME SIX DOLLARS FOR THOSE PEROGIES
AND THOSE CABBAGE ROLLS THERE. (He gets the money and sets it on the
table. She picks it up. She counts it.)
I'll be back to pick those
trays up. You'll have them nice and washed.
(Pause.)
You can do that for me, can't
you John? (Pause.
She glances out the window.) They say it's supposed to warm up.
(Pause. Then to GRETA,
coldly:) I'll be
back to pick those trays up.
(Blackout.)