Devil in the Dry Cleaning
By Tristin Profitt


Ruth waltzes with Harold Levine’s navy blue blazer around the small basement of the Laundromat. The image of the twenty year-old girl and the coat’s reflects off the mirrors containing painted images of Jesus, and off the fake jewel encrusted crucifixes. The sports coat dips her down low.
“Ruth, my darling, you truly are quite fetching. How am I so lucky?” says Harold Levine’s Blazer.
“No, Harold, it is I that is so lucky,” she says.
They kiss passionately as the song comes to its end.

Ruth props a broom against the glass door, and proceeds to flip the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’ before returning to her sweeping. As she sweeps, she sings to herself a hymn, and imagines all the friends waiting for her in the dry cleaning. A knock on the glass stops her song.
“Excuse me,” Harold Levine says through the glass.
“Mr. Levine,” she says, “please come in.”
“I know you’re closed, but I really need this suit dry-cleaned for tomorrow. Wine spill. Think you can squeeze me in?”
She takes the suit from him and motions him toward the counter.
“Of course. Let me get you your ticket,” she says.
He smiles at her. She feels blood rush to her genitals. She writes the ticket without looking at it, but keeps her gaze upward and focused on the man’s face. She examines the facial hair that has started growing back from his long day. She watches his blue eyes as he surveys the Laundromat.
“Bit lonely in here,” he says, “after close… Ruth? Right?”
She smiles the most genuine smile she ever has. He knows my name, she thinks.
“So you think you can get the stain out? By tomorrow I mean?”
“For you anything.”
“Thanks, doll,” he says with a wink.
She hands him the ticket, but it falls out of his hand. He bends to pick it up, and in that moment she grabs the stapler off the counter and cracks him over the head. He falls to the linoleum floor. Too frail to carry him, Ruth takes hold of his arms and drags him through the back and down the stairs.

Ruth grew up at the Laundromat, which her parents had started years before she was born. They died just before her eighteenth birthday and left it to her out-right. They’d long sense repaid the loan to the bank. Her parents had been hard workers, and instilled that in Ruth. Being strict Christians, they opted to homeschool Ruth as to avoid the sinful world of public schools. Ruth loved the Laundromat.

Ruth sits sipping tea and starring at the unconscious Harold Levine who is tied to a chair. She thinks how lovely he is. She looks to the flowered sundress of Madeline Petersen next to her and says, “Isn’t he just ever so lovely?”
“Yes, Ruth,” says Madeline Petersen’s Sundress, “you truly are a blessed girl. Thank the Lord for bringing you your shepherd.”
Harold Levine begins to stir awake. His head rolls around his neck, and his eyes slowly twitch open. Ruth watches as she moves in slowly to be next to him. She is the first thing he sees.
“What happened?” he says.
“Shh. It’s ok. It’s ok now,” she says.
“Did I fall?”
“You’re safe now. At home.”
“Huh?” he says attempting to move his arms. “Why are my arms tied?”
“It’s for your own protection. You were unconscious. I didn’t want you to fall out the chair and injure yourself further.”
“Untie me,” he says.
“You want to embrace me don’t you?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Untie me?”
“What is this foul talk!” she says.
“It’s a trap,” says Madeline Petersen’s Sundress. “He’s trying to escape.”
Ruth stares into his eyes as hers begin to water over.
“Is this true?” she says.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but let me out and I won’t press charges.”
“Charges?”
“He doesn’t love you,” says Madeline Petersen’s Sundress. “He wants to leave you!”
“Shut up you,” Ruth says. “That’s not true is it, Harold? You’re here because you love me. The Lord has brought you here to me.”
Harold shakes around his chair, trying to break free. Ruth backs away startled. Harold falls to the ground and begins shouting for help. Ruth grabs a piece of cloth, shoves it into his mouth, and tapes it closed.
“See I told you,” says Madeline Petersen’s Sundress. “He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t like you.”
“That’s not true! That’s just the Devil making him act that way,” says Ruth. “But we can cure him of that. Yes, Harold, I can cure of that. Take those demons right out of you and cast them back to hell. Then we can be happy. We can be together as the Lord wants.”


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Tristin Profitt is a playwright living in North Hollywood, CA. He eats eggs.