The smell of leather soaking in lime solution could best be described as sterilized piss. Like someone had emptied their bladder in a hospital ward. Luckily for Ivan, most of what remained of his sense of smell had been depleted over the years to almost nothing, along with most of his nose hairs. But that didn’t stop his mustache from filling in, already having consumed much of his upper lip like a hairy caterpillar bent on domination over his face.
Ivan whistled a happy tune from the old country (its origins were in beating gypsy beggars on the streets but had now become a bedtime song mothers would sing to their children and drunks would sing to each other) as he prepared his knife to remove the outer layer of flesh from the nearly done leather. But first, there was a customer at the front desk.
Rarity pressed a hoof on the call bell at the front desk of the shop exactly three times, stepping back curtly as she waited. Eventually, Ivan appeared from the door leading to the back of the store.
The shop was comprised of one main commodity: saddles. There were show saddles, work saddles, Western saddles, English saddles, and so on. Each was polished to a shiny sheen, the floor was immaculately clean, and one could even see their own reflection in the front desk.
Wiping his hands on the front of his stained apron, Ivan observed the pony. A unicorn, he noticed. Nothing too unusual. Typically the only ponies who don’t buy saddles were pegasi. Well, not from him, anyway. His saddles would just be obtrusive on their wings, which is why they usually ordered from some Mexican fellow down in Canterlot. But for the vast majority, his shop in Ponyville was the only place to buy saddles of all shapes and varieties.
Sure, it had been difficult adjusting his manufacturing process to suit pony needs, but Ivan had made it work. In the old country all the horses had been eaten during the long winter, in America there was never much need for saddles, but at the first word that greencards were being given to human workers to Equestria, Ivan had jumped at the opportunity. And now his business was booming, as evident from his newest customer.
Rarity cleared her throat, avoiding staring at the garish stains across Ivan’s apron. “Good afternoon, sir. My name is Rarity. I shopped at your fine establishment last Tuesday and have returned on the inquiry of certain questions about what substances your products are made out of.”
Ivan’s English was rusty, but his Equestrian was even worse. The pony’s prim and proper accent certainly didn’t help. Who would have thought you could make an entire language based around nickers, neighs, and snorting, much less have different accents of it? But he knew enough about the language to understand the gist of what the little white unicorn with the fancy mane had said… for the most part.
“Sorry, Ivan no take Visa card. Master Card yes.”
Rarity frowned, sighing so low under her breath Ivan didn’t even register it. “No, I’m not here to purchase something. I am here to ask questions. About your product. Do. You. Un-der-staaaaand?” she asked, drawing out the last word on the tip of her tongue.
Ivan scratched at his bushy mustache. The pony was snorting out a lot of hot air from her nose. Was that supposed to mean she was agitated? Nervous? Anxious? Pissed off? Not wanting to find out, Ivan answered, “Yes, questions. Ivan shall answer best.”
Rarity smiled, all formal and pleasant. Ivan wondered whether she was one of those noble ponies he’s heard so much about.
“Excellent. Now, after sampling one of your products I could tell it was of the uttermost quality saddles I had ever worn. The texture was exquisite, the color so rugged yet charming, and best of all was that it felt so comfortable and free.” Rarity’s eyes dazzled at that last word, her smile and appreciative look all too real. Ivan scratched at the bald patch atop his lopsided head. “However, I was recently alerted by one of my friends that your products use… well, how do I put this…”
While she tapped her chin, Ivan huffed out a breath. Ponies could be so overly dramatic sometimes. Not that humans weren’t, but for some reason ponies added onto the effect with spontaneous couches appearing out of nowhere to faint upon. Ivan had seen it four times already. Damn magic horses.
“Just answer me this. Is it true that your saddles are made out of cow skin?”
“Yes.”
Rarity looked as if the answer her struck her twice against both cheeks. “A-are you quite sure? It’s not… not made out of some synthetic substance, is it? Several of my dresses are, but the feel just didn’t have the same texture to it.”
“Yes, Ivan uses top of the line cow leather for saddles. Best stuff, Ivan is sure of this, guaranteed.” Ivan drummed his fingers against the countertop and shrugged his shoulders. “Although for some Ivan uses deer skin. On the odd occasion, sheep.” Ivan held his hand flat in the air and tilted it left to right several times. “Ehhhh, it still good, yes? That answer question?”
“Yes, it did.” Rarity stamped a hoof in the floor, Ivan’s eyes going wide at the perfectly shined surface becoming smudged by her faint hoofprint. “How could you possibly use the skin of cows and sheep? I’ll have you know, several of my friends are cows. Well, my friend’s friends are, in any event, but the practice of using their skin for saddles is still savage and completely inequine! How can you sleep at night knowing you use the skin of those who walk, and talk, and feel?”
Ivan’s mouth opened and closed like that of a fish out of water atop a fillet board. “Ivan… uses best cow leather for saddles.”
“And how is this even legal? Do you go out and kill the cows yourself in the middle of the night, like some human brute?”
Wiping the sweat from his palms on the apron, Ivan fumbled together his fingers, his mustache wiggling about as he licked his lips. “Ivan gets cow leather from Earth. Monthly shipment. Fresh, good, clean, definitely not illegal, Ivan swears it.”
This did not stop Rarity, however, who had both her hooves atop Ivan’s once spotless tabletop so that she could lean in closer. Ivan didn’t care how clean she looked or how spotless her mane was, she still walked on all fours. Damn dirty horses.
“And how do you think those cows feel, hmm? Just because it happens on Earth, doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect those of us in Equestria.” Rarity narrowed her eyes. “You sir, disgust me. Treating my fellow equine like a piece of meat… literally.”
“But… cows are dumb.” Ivan tapped his temple. “No smart. Humans eat them for food, use for milk, cut up for leather. Ivan went to Earth just last week to eat burger made from cow meat. It very good.”
Rarity balked. “Eating… meat? How disgusting! How repugnant! How nauseating! How downright sleazeball...ish!” At this point Ivan couldn’t even understand half of the words she was saying. “How could you possibly be okay with practicing such loathsome and distasteful actions?”
“But cow tastes good, Ivan swears!”
“You’re deplorable,” Rarity said, practically hissing the words through her teeth. “Your unforgivable actions shall not be forgotten! A two-star Yelp review is what your business deserves!” Rarity leaned in closer, her muzzle an upright sneer. “Perhaps even a one.”
“No, no, no, you got Ivan all wrong. Cows are dumb. Like rock. Humans eat cows all the time. Like how pony eat apple, yes?” Ivan explained this by taking a bite out of the air, exposing his horrible, nicotine-stained teeth. In the old country, toothbrushes were a rarity, while cigarettes popped up like weeds in the garden. “Eat, eat, good for pony!”
“That’s still no excuse for being a carnivore,” Rarity said.
Now it was Ivan’s time to frown. “Wait, Ivan confused. Gryphons eat meat. Diamond dogs eat meat. Minotaurs eat meat… which is strange since they are half cow, but eh. Ivan does not know if they eat Equestrian cow, Ivan does not care. Ivan just uses Earth cow, which is stupid and eaten anyway.”
“Huh.” Rarity tapped her chin. “I never thought of it that way before. It does seem quite silly that I’ve made such a big deal over something I didn’t quite understand.” Rarity got off from the counter and smiled meekly at Ivan. “I do apologize. I just wanted to be completely sure about the product I purchased.”
Ivan was already busy running a clean rag across the tabletop with a bottle of Windex close at hand. “It okay. Ivan understands… kinda.”
“Although I am a bit uncomfortable that I’m wearing saddles made out of animal skin.” Rarity shivered, running a hoof down her neck. “But regular saddles made by ponies just aren’t the same anymore. Oh dear, I think I’m in a bit of a moral predicament now.”
It was here, in a rare moment of awkward silence, that something dawned on Ivan. Why it took so long could only be explained with heavy vodka and cigarette consumption since the age of ten. Also, that lime solution. The amount of brain cells it has killed makes vodka look like a lightweight. Nevertheless, this dawning brought a new light to Ivan’s thoughts. A grand epiphany the likes of which the overweight, middle-aged man will never experience ever again. Mostly because of the lime solution.
“Wait, Ivan has question too.”
Rarity glanced back to Ivan, arching a brow. “Yes, how may I help you, darling?”
“Ivan came to Equestria because ponies buy saddles. It simple, no? But now Ivan wonders something.” Ivan pointed to Rarity’s back. “Ivan has never seen pony rider before. Well, except for lizard thingy on Princess pony in town, but she no wear saddle. So why ponies buy saddle in first place?”
“Ah, yes, well… saddles are used for… for ponies who need them to…” A few beads of sweat appeared on Rarity’s brow. She licked her lips, her eyes glancing furtively around the store. “T-to do specific things. It’s a pony thing.”
Ivan leaned in closer over the counter, his eyes like spotlights on the darkness of Rarity’s lies. “What type of pony thing?”
“Uhhhh.”
“Now that Ivan remembers it, weren’t you the order for a dozen saddles just last week?”
“Ummmm.”
“I mean, Ivan understands one or two, but dozen?” Ivan scratched at the scruff on the bottom of his chubby chin. “Who does that?”
“Somepony with a lot of acquaintances,” Rarity coughed under her breath.
“Eh?”
“Look. Saddles are used in the privacy of one’s house. Sometimes with an acquaintance. Or two. Three. Four…” Rarity stared blissfully in the distance for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Anyway, that is the reason why. I don’t know what ponies in your world do with them, but for ponies in Equestria, it is a hushed and quiet affair. Do you understand?”
Ivan stood still for several moments with his head held down. This dragged onto a full minute. Then, finally, he looked up to Rarity and asked, “Is this why an erotica book store and liquor store is next door?”
“Ummmmm… sure. Let’s go with that.” Rarity backed up to the front door of the store as quick as she could manage. “Well, Ivan, it’s been a delight speaking to you! Wonderful saddles, darling, you really are a master at your craft. Ta-ta!”
As the door closed, Ivan rubbed at the bald spot on the top of his head again, his eyebrows furrowed like two furry beasts meeting in the center of battle. While that had certainly been strange, it had become almost typical for ponies. Over-dramatic one minute, completely calm and normal the next.
Ivan returned to his vat of lime solution and leather, muttering under his breath the entire time. The door leading to the back of the shop closed and the shop’s front was quiet and still, not a noise that could be heard.
Eventually, Ivan opened up the door and went to a display of saddles on showcase near the front of his store. The saddles were labeled foal sizes, perfect for any filly or colt out there. Ivan took them down and shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Damn perverted horses.”