Applejack looked into the storefront window and sighed. Granny was getting so old now, it'd be foalish not to prepare. Even with that spring in her step, she could pass away any year. The mare took a deep breath and trotted inside.
A bell tinkled overhead. "Coming!" called a perky stallion's voice.
Now where have I heard that voice before, wondered Applejack?
She turned to examine one of the caskets: a fancy-looking polished walnut coffin with bedding that looked softer than anything she'd ever sat on in her life. "Like a skeleton needs a mattress," she scoffed.
"Well, some ponies only want the best for their loved ones," chided that familiar voice, now standing right beside her. Applejack turned and snorted.
"Flam!" she said, as Flam stepped back a pace.
"Applejack! So nice to see you," said Flim, emerging from the back room.
Applejack glared at the brothers. "Of all the lowdown, dishonest career choices—fleecing families in a time of grief takes some nerve, even for the two of you!"
"My word, Applejack! We're not 'fleecing' anypony," said Flam, raising a hoof. "Unless a sheep has made such a bequest, of course."
"That's right," said Flim, flanking her. "We are but humble businessponies, offering comfort to loved ones in need."
"Like wet horse apples you are," spat Applejack, and both brothers blushed. "Pardon my fancy. No, on second thought, don't."
"Now Applejack, don't judge us until you've examined the quality of our merchandise," said Flim. "Our caskets are on the expensive side, but they're worth every bit."
"See here," said Flam, opening a nearby casket. "Solid mahogany, lined with the finest silk."
Applejack turned around, and both brothers ducked. She gently bucked the side of the casket, echoing a pleasant knock.
"Huh. That there's some solid craftsponyship," she said. "Where's the catch?"
"No catch!" promised Flim, with a grin. "We can make a killing these days with the population boom."
"Our supplier does all the work. We control the shipping, and mark up prices accordingly," said Flam.
"How much?" asked Applejack.
"That one is fifty-thousand," said Flim, smiling wide.
"Fifty-thousand bits?" gasped Applejack, her jaw slack. "You're pullin' Kicks McGee!"
"Well, it's like we said. Some ponies only want the best for their loved ones," said Flam, gently placing a leg around Applejack's withers.
Applejack bucked the leg off her back. "When Granny kicks the bucket someday, her corpse ain't gonna feel nothin'. I just need somethin' solid that'll decompose nice, so she can feed the orchard like she wants. We can rent a show casket for the viewin'."
"We do rentals too!" said Flim. "One-thousand for this one, and it's guaranteed to be completely cleaned between showings."
"Hmm. That's a lot of bits, but ain't bad in this market," admitted Applejack. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I'll get back to you."
Flam and Flim beamed with pride.
"And you said this was for... Smith, wasn't that her name?" asked Flim.
"I certainly hope your grandmother hasn't taken ill," said Flam, wearing an exaggerated pout as both brothers held their hats to their chests.
"Granny's just fine," said Applejack. "I'm only plannin' ahead. If'n we're lucky, she might even hold out another couple decades. Longevity's an Apple trait, y'know."
"Ah. Well, you are so thoughtful to plan for her," said Flam, flatly.
Flim's eyes lit up. "Oh! Wait just a moment!" he said. Dashing into the back room, he promptly returned with a wrapped present. "A gift for your grandmother," he offered, floating it over to Applejack with a respectful nod.
Applejack plucked the gift from the air and began tearing through the paper.
"Don't you want it to be a surprise for your dear granny?" Flam said, nervously.
"Nnope," said Applejack. Inside the box was an unlabeled glass jar filled with what looked like peanut butter.
"Luxury-quality peanut spread," said Flim, wearing a plastic grin. "For a mare with a sweet tooth."
Applejack unscrewed the lid, tapped her hoof into the confectionery, and licked. Her eyes narrowed and she growled like a timber wolf.
Flim and Flam backed up as Applejack stomped forward. "N-not a fan?" asked Flam.
"We have other—" began Flim.
"This spread's got hazelnuts. Granny's deathly allergic," said Applejack.
Flim gasped and held his hooves to his face. "Oh my goodness! Why, we had no idea!" he said.
"She listed her allergies when you peddled her that 'miracle tonic' last year!" snarled Applejack.
"Oops?" whimpered Flam.
Flam lit his horn, illuminating the cramped space that he and his brother now occupied.
"We'll be fine, brother. It's not like she can prove it was intentional," said Flam.
"Yes, but—you don't suppose she would leave us nailed in here forever, do you?" asked Flim.
"I doubt it," said Flam, sounding wholly uncertain.
"Either way, a customer is bound to walk in and discover us soon," reassured Flim.
"Although, the caskets are nearly soundproof," noted Flam.
"But it's a good thing they're so soft inside, isn't it!" said Flim.
Flam squirmed in place. "Oh dear. Perhaps we should have washed out the maggots from the previous rental."
Out on the abandoned showroom floor, if you listened very closely, you could almost hear the cries for help.