Mrs. Klosky’s Dry Cleaning Debate

WizardShe was nervous to take the robes into her neighborhood cleaner.  Everyone knew Mr. Smilivich was a semi-reformed cardshark who now gambled with neighborhood secrets instead of his mother’s Medicare.  The robes might pass him by, go to his dopey nephew, but she might be just unlucky enough to catch him during the two days a week he still worked the front desk.  And Smiles was sharp – he would take one look at them, realize exactly what they were used for and tell all the men he played bagpipes with.  Then she wouldn’t be able to go into town for her groceries and postage needs without them smirking at her.  No, she would try the new ethnic cleaners down by the river.  She had heard derisive comments about their food and hair, but not a single bad word about their cleaning services.  People in her town were certainly racist, but they were all blue collar and so knew that to disparage someone’s business was to take away their ability to make money.  And that didn’t sit well with any of them.  Not even an elderly woman who liked to dress as a medieval wizard and conduct séances in her mud room after bingo at the rec center.

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