Pigs is Pigs | Page 6

them dago pigs," it said, "what shall I do they are great in
family life, no race suicide for them, there are thirty-two now shall I
sell them do you take this express office for a menagerie, answer
quick."
Morgan reached for a telegraph blank and wrote:
"Agent, Westcote. Don't sell pigs."
He then wrote Flannery a letter calling his attention to the fact that the
pigs were not the property of the company but were merely being held
during a settlement of a dispute regarding rates. He advised Flannery to
take the best possible care of them.
Flannery, letter in hand, looked at the pigs and sighed. The dry-goods
box cage had become too small. He boarded up twenty feet of the rear
of the express office to make a large and airy home for them, and went
about his business. He worked with feverish intensity when out on his
rounds, for the pigs required attention and took most of his time. Some
months later, in desperation, he seized a sheet of paper and wrote "160"
across it and mailed it to Morgan. Morgan returned it asking for
explanation. Flannery replied:
"There be now one hundred sixty of them dago pigs, for heavens sake
let me sell off some, do you want me to go crazy, what."
"Sell no pigs," Morgan wired.
Not long after this the president of the express company received a
letter from Professor Gordon. It was a long and scholarly letter, but the
point was that the guinea-pig was the Cava aparoea while the common
pig was the genius Sus of the family Suidae. He remarked that they

were prolific and multiplied rapidly.
"They are not pigs," said the president, decidedly, to Morgan. "The
twenty-five cent rate applies."
Morgan made the proper notation on the papers that had accumulated in
File A6754, and turned them over to the Audit Department. The Audit
Department took some time to look the matter up, and after the usual
delay wrote Flannery that as he had on hand one hundred and sixty
guinea-pigs, the property of consignee, he should deliver them and
collect charges at the rate of twenty-five cents each.
Flannery spent a day herding his charges through a narrow opening in
their cage so that he might count them.
"Audit Dept." he wrote, when he had finished the count, "you are way
off there may be was one hundred and sixty dago pigs once, but wake
up don't be a back number. I've got even eight hundred, now shall I
collect for eight hundred or what, how about sixty-four dollars I paid
out for cabbages."
It required a great many letters back and forth before the Audit
Department was able to understand why the error had been made of
billing one hundred and sixty instead of eight hundred, and still more
time for it to get the meaning of the "cabbages."
Flannery was crowded into a few feet at the extreme front of the office.
The pigs had all the rest of the room and two boys were employed
constantly attending to them. The day after Flannery had counted the
guinea- pigs there were eight more added to his drove, and by the time
the Audit Department gave him authority to collect for eight hundred
Flannery had given up all attempts to attend to the receipt or the
delivery of goods. He was hastily building galleries around the express
office, tier above tier. He had four thousand and sixty-four guinea-pigs
to care for! More were arriving daily.
Immediately following its authorization the Audit Department sent
another letter, but Flannery was too busy to open it. They wrote another
and then they telegraphed:
"Error in guinea-pig bill. Collect for two guinea-pigs, fifty cents.
Deliver all to consignee."
Flannery read the telegram and cheered up. He wrote out a bill as
rapidly as his pencil could travel over paper and ran all the way to the
Morehouse home. At the gate he stopped suddenly. The house stared at

him with vacant eyes. The windows were bare of curtains and he could
see into the empty rooms. A sign on the porch said, "To Let." Mr.
Morehouse had moved! Flannery ran all the way back to the express
office. Sixty-nine guinea-pigs had been born during his absence. He ran
out again and made feverish inquiries in the village. Mr. Morehouse
had not only moved, but he had left Westcote. Flannery returned to the
express office and found that two hundred and six guinea-pigs had
entered the world since he left it. He wrote a telegram to the Audit
Department.
"Can't collect fifty cents for two dago pigs consignee has left town
address unknown what shall I do? Flannery."
The telegram was handed to one of the clerks in the Audit Department,
and