Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer
"PIGS IS PIGS"
By Ellis Parker Butler
Mike Flannery, the Westcote agent of the Interurban Express Company,leaned over the counter of the express office and shook his fist.Mr. Morehouse, angry and red, stood on the other side of the counter,trembling with rage. The argument had been long and heated, and at lastMr. Morehouse had talked himself speechless. The cause of the troublestood on the counter between the two men. It was a soap box acrossthe top of which were nailed a number of strips, forming a rough butserviceable cage. In it two spotted guinea-pigs were greedily eatinglettuce leaves.
"Do as you loike, then!" shouted Flannery, "pay for thim an' takethim, or don't pay for thim and leave thim be. Rules is rules, MistherMorehouse, an' Mike Flannery's not goin' to be called down fer breakin'of thim."
"But, you everlastingly stupid idiot!" shouted Mr. Morehouse, madlyshaking a flimsy printed book beneath the agent's nose, "can't you readit here-in your own plain printed rates? 'Pets, domestic, Franklin toWestcote, if properly boxed, twenty-five cents each.'" He threw the bookon the counter in disgust. "What more do you want? Aren't they pets?Aren't they domestic? Aren't they properly boxed? What?"
He turned and walked back and forth rapidly; frowning ferociously.
Suddenly he turned to Flannery, and forcing his voice to an artificialcalmness spoke slowly but with intense sarcasm.
"Pets," he said "P-e-t-s! Twenty-five cents each. There are two of them.One! Two! Two times twenty-five are fifty! Can you understand that? Ioffer you fifty cents."
Flannery reached for the book. He ran his hand through the pages andstopped at page sixty four.
"An' I don't take fifty cints," he whispered in mockery. "Here's therule for ut. 'Whin the agint be in anny doubt regardin' which of tworates applies to a shipment, he shall charge the larger. The con-sign-eymay file a claim for the overcharge.' In this case, Misther Morehouse,I be in doubt. Pets thim animals may be, an' domestic they be, but pigsI'm blame sure they do be, an' me rules says plain as the nose onyer face, 'Pigs Franklin to Westcote, thirty cints each.' An' MisterMorehouse, by me arithmetical knowledge two times thurty comes to sixtycints."
Mr. Morehouse shook his head savagely. "Nonsense!" he shouted,"confounded nonsense, I tell you! Why, you poor ignorant foreigner, thatrule means common pigs, domestic pigs, not guinea pigs!"
Flannery was stubborn.
"Pigs is pigs," he declared firmly. "Guinea-pigs, or dago pigs or Irishpigs is all the same to the Interurban Express Company an' to MikeFlannery. Th' nationality of the pig creates no differentiality in therate, Misther Morehouse! 'Twould be the same was they Dutch pigs orRooshun pigs. Mike Flannery," he added, "is here to tind to the exprissbusiness and not to hould conversation wid dago pigs in sivinteenlanguages fer to discover be they Chinese or Tipperary by birth an'nativity."
Mr. Morehouse hesitated. He bit his lip and then flung out his armswildly.
"Very well!" he shouted, "you shall hear of this! Your president shallhear of this! It is an outrage! I have offered you fifty cents. Yourefuse it! Keep the pigs until you are ready to take the fifty cents,but, by George, sir, if one hair of those pigs' heads is harmed I willhave the law on you!"
He turned and stalked out, slamming the door. Flannery carefully liftedthe soap box from the counter and placed it in a corner. He was notworried. He felt the peace that comes to a faithful servant who has donehis duty and done it well.
Mr. Morehouse went home raging. His boy, who had been awaiting theguinea-pigs, knew better than to ask him for them. He was a normal boyand therefore always had a guilty conscience when his father wasangry. So the boy slipped quietly around the house. There is nothing sosoothing to a guilty conscience as to be out of the path of the avenger.Mr. Morehouse stormed into the house. "Where's the ink?" he shouted athis wife as soon as his foot was across the doorsill.
Mrs. Morehouse jumped, guiltily. She never used ink. She had not seenthe ink, nor moved the ink, nor thought of the ink, but her husband'stone convicted her of the guilt of having borne and reared a boy, andshe knew that whenever her husband wanted anything in a loud voice theboy had been at it.
"I'll find Sammy," she said meekly.
When the ink was found Mr. Morehouse wrote rapidly, and he read thecompleted letter and smiled a triumphant smile.
"That will settle that crazy Irishman!" he exclaimed. "When they getthat letter he will hunt another job, all right!"
A week later Mr. Morehouse received a long official envelope with thecard of the Interurban Express Company in the upper left corner. He toreit open eagerly and drew out a sheet of paper. At the top it bore thenumber A6754. The letter was short. "Subject--Rate on guinea-pigs,"it said, "Dr. Sir--We are in receipt of your letter regarding rate onguinea-pigs between Franklin and Westcote addressed to the presidentof this company. All claims for overcharge should be addressed to theClaims Department."
Mr. Morehouse wrote to the Claims Department. He wrote six pages ofchoice sarcasm, vituperation and argument, and sent them to the ClaimsDepartment.
A few weeks later he received a reply from the Claims Department.Attached to it was his last letter.
"Dr. Sir," said the reply. "Your letter of the 16th inst., addressed tothis Department, subject rate on guinea-pigs from Franklin to Westcote,ree'd. We have taken up the matter with our agent at Westcote, and hisreply is attached herewith. He informs us that you refused to receivethe consignment or to pay the charges. You have therefore no claimagainst this company, and your letter regarding the proper rate on theconsignment should be addressed to our Tariff Department."
Mr. Morehouse wrote to the Tariff Department. He stated his caseclearly, and gave his arguments in full, quoting a page or two from theencyclopedia to prove that guinea-pigs were not common pigs.
With the care that characterizes corporations when they aresystematically conducted, Mr. Morehouse's letter was numbered, O.K'd,and started through the regular channels. Duplicate copies of the billof lading, manifest, Flannery's receipt for the package and severalother pertinent papers were pinned to the letter, and they were passedto the head of the Tariff Department.
The head of the Tariff Department put his feet on his desk and yawned.He looked through the papers carelessly.
"Miss Kane," he said to his stenographer, "take this letter. 'Agent,Westcote, N. J. Please advise why consignment referred to in attachedpapers was refused domestic pet rates."'
Miss Kane made a series of curves and angles on her note book and waitedwith pencil poised. The head of the department looked at the papersagain.
"Huh! guinea-pigs!" he said. "Probably starved to death by this time!Add this to that letter: 'Give condition of consignment at present.'"
He tossed the papers on to the stenographer's desk, took his feet fromhis own desk and went out to lunch.
When Mike Flannery received the letter he scratched his head.
"Give prisint condition," he repeated thoughtfully. "Now what do thimclerks be wantin' to know, I wonder! 'Prisint condition, 'is ut? Thimpigs, praise St. Patrick, do be in good health, so far as I know, but Iniver was no veternairy surgeon to dago pigs. Mebby thim clerks wantsme to call in the pig docther an' have their pulses took. Wan thing Ido know, howiver, which is they've glorious appytites for pigs of theirsoize. Ate? They'd ate the brass padlocks off of a barn door I If thepaddy pig, by the same token, ate as hearty as these dago pigs do,there'd be a famine in Ireland."
To assure himself that his report would be up to date, Flannery wentto the rear of the office and looked into the cage. The pigs had beentransferred to a larger box--a dry goods box.
"Wan, -- two, -- t'ree, -- four, -- five, -- six, -- sivin, -- eight!"he counted. "Sivin spotted an' wan all black. All well an' heart
y an'all eatin' loike ragin' hippypottymusses. He went back to his desk andwrote.
"Mr. Morgan, Head of Tariff Department," he wrote. "Why do I say dagopigs is pigs because they is pigs and will be til you say they ain'twhich is what the rule book says stop your jollying me you know it aswell as I do. As to health they are all well and hoping you are thesame. P. S. There are eight now the family increased all good eaters. P.S. I paid out so far two dollars for cabbage which they like shall I putin bill for same what?"
Morgan, head of the Tariff Department, when he received this letter,laughed.
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