"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.)