The Over-Horseshoe and Other Short Stories

Comrades, I can’t stand mares in hats. If a mare’s got a hat on and a silk dress, or she’s carrying some sort of miserable little cat, or if’s she’s got diamonds or something like on her flank, then if you ask me, that kind of classy mare isn’t a mare at all, but a waste of space.

In my time I’ve fallen for one of these classy mares of course. I went out with her and took her to the theatre. And it was in the theatre that it all came out. It was in the theatre that she exposed the full extent of her bourgeois generosity!

I met her in the castle; I was working there at the time. As I was making my way across the courtyard I saw her standing there. Hat on her head and diamonds on her rump.

‘Where are you from, miss?’ I asked, ‘What room?’

‘I’m,’ she said, ‘staying in the tower.’

‘All right,’ I said, ‘well, enjoy your stay.’

And straight away I liked her really badly. I started going round there regularly. To the tower. I would go round there in my official capacity. I’d say, so how are things miss, I see your cat is wet, have you had any problems with the plumbing or the toilet? Or, is everything working?

‘Yes,’ she’d say. ‘Everything’s working.’

And she’d just pull on her scarf around her and not a word more. She’d just make eyes at me, And those diamonds flashed on her flank. After I’d been going round there for a week, she got used to me. Starting answering in more detail: saying ‘The pumbing’s working fine, thank you, Ivan Durakovich.’

Time passed and we saw more of each other, and began to go for little canters together. We’d get outside and she’d tell me to open the door and this and that. And I’d open the door and trot along after, like a manticore after its prey. And I didn’t know what to say, I felt embarrassed in front of all the ponies.

Then one day she said to me:

‘Why are you,’ she said, ‘always following me round the streets? It’s making me dizzy. Since you’re, I’m sure, a very important pony in your own way, and you want to take me out,’ she said, ‘you should take me, say, to the theatre.’

‘If you want,’ I said.

As it happened, the next day the staff at the castle were sent some opera tickets. I got one, and Steampunk the boilerpony gave me his.

I didn’t check the tickets but they weren’t together. Mine was downstairs and Steampunk’s was up in the gallery.

So off we went. We sat down in our places. She sat in my seat, and I sat in Steampunk’s. I was sitting at the very back and couldn’t see a thing. But if I leant over the safety-rail I could see her. Not very well though. I felt bored, really bored, so I went downstairs. I saw it was the interval. And she walked about during the interval.

‘Hello,’ I said.

‘Hello.’

‘I wonder,’ I said, ‘if the plumbing works here?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

She made for the buffet. I followed her. She walked along the buffet looking at the counter. There was a plate on the counter. It had cakes on it.

She was strutting like a parasprite, one of those dratted things we had in Fillydelphia when I was there. I hovered next to her.

‘If you wish,’ I offered, ‘to eat one of those cakes, go ahead, I’ll pay.’

‘Merci,’ she said.

And suddenly she walked over to the plate in her decadent way, levitated a cream cake, and fed it to her tolstyak cat!

But I didn’t have enough bits to feed a cat! At the most I could afford three cakes. She was eating, and I was feeling round in my saddle-bag, worrying, trying to see how many bits I had left. What I had you could easily fit up a griffon’s nose.

She’d fed one cake to the cat, and took another! I was starting to wheeze, but I kept quiet. I suddenly felt some bourgeois embarrassment. She’d say: he wants to take me out and he hasn’t got any money!

I was circling round her like a cockerel. While she was giggling and fishing for compliments.

I said:

‘Isn’t it about time we took our seats? I think the bell’s rung.’

But she said:

‘No.’

And took a third cake!

I said:

‘Don’t you think that’s a lot on an empty stomach? You might feel sick.’

But she laughed and said:

‘It’s alright, I’m used to it, you should see the cake at the parties my friend throws!’

And took a forth.

Then the blood went to my head.

‘Put it,’ I said, ‘back!’

She was frightened. Opening her mouth. Diamonds shining on her flank.

But I completely lost it. Whatever happens, I thought, I won’t be going out with her anymore.

‘Put,’ I said, ‘the chertov thing back!’

She put it back. Then I said to the pony behind the counter:

‘How much is that for the three cakes we’ve eaten?’

But the stallion was indifferent. Pretending he didn’t understand.

‘For the four cakes you’ve eaten, that’ll be such and such.’

‘What do you mean,’ I said, ‘four, when the forth is there on the plate?!’

‘No,’ he answered, ‘it might be situated on the plate, but there’s a nibble taken out of it and it’s got hoof-marks on it.’

‘What do you mean,’ I said, ‘a nibble taken out of it! Excuse me, but that’s just your ridiculous fantasies.’

But the stallion was indifferent. Waving his hooves all over the place making a fuss.

Well then a crowd gathered of course.  Umnik experts!

Some reckoned a nibble had been taken, others didn’t.

So I turned out my saddle bag: all sorts of rubbish fell out on the floor. Ponies were laughing. But I wasn’t laughing. I was counting my bits.

I finished counting. Just enough for four cakes. I needn’t have gotten into a f...lipping argument.

I paid. I turned to the mare.

‘You may finish it,’ I said, ‘miss, it’s paid for.’

But the mare didn’t move. She was too embarrassed to finish it.

Then some fellow poked his muzzle in, reeking of turnips!

‘Give it here,’ he said, ‘I’ll finish it!’

And he finished it, the ublyudok! On my money.

We went back to our seats. Finished watching the opera. Then went back to the castle.

By the door, she said:

‘That was rather lousy of you, if you can’t afford to be even a little generous you shouldn’t go out with ladies.’

I replied:

‘Generosity cannot buy happiness miss! If you’ll pardon the expression.’

And that’s how we split up.

I don’t like classy mares.