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Harv sat in the train car and stared out the window. Since regular stops had been added to Adrian's Landing, it was much simpler to get into Panama City. He enjoyed that. What he did not enjoy was the grousing and grumbling coming from the vicinity of his feet.
"Why do I gotta always sit on the floor? This is speciesist, I tell you!"
"It's not my idea, Vivaldi. The Rail Company made the rules."
He pointed at a sign at the far end of the car that read:
All animals (Including dogs, cats, ducks, llamas, pandas (even the type with the funny hardware growing out of their ears), frogs, rats, strange South American rodents, xeno-biological mistakes from Australia, and especially squirrels) will be seated on the floor. And those damned Shiba Inu puppies will be in a crate in the baggage car until they are house trained!
Below it, someone had pancilled in: Of course, this does not, in any way apply to imaginary, invisible, violence prone gibbons, and we would like to politely ask Mr Adrian to refrain from flicking peanut shells at the conductors. Our health insurance premiums are sky-rocketing.
"Well, it doesn't say talking dogs."
"I think that the conductor made his position fairly clear the last time you tried that argument," said Harv.
"He could have at least let the train stop before he threw me off."
"I thought he was doing well to wait for it to slow down for the curve. Besides, what you said about his mother was not only wrong, but improbable."
"Lousy service, any way. They don't even have a radio."
"Look, I agreed to your proposal! Let's just let it go..."
"I just think I should have gotten a bonus time for doing it without actually touching the line."
"Well, I think you should have got nothing and like it for not doing anything at all, but I'm just happy to have ska banned for eternity."
Across the aisle from Harv, two socks sat in their seats and looked smug.
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