Was it a subtle jab by the princesses? Giving you this job?

You've been in Equestria for nearly a year, and after numerous failures to be placed into proper employement, you are now a NEET Inspector.

It wasn't your fault these damned ponies were literally destined for their careers. How do you compete with another editor when it's their divine providence to find every single conjunction error? Your English degree is worth even less in Equestria than it was back home.

It couldn't even land you a job sweeping floors because some mare had a broom and dustpan inked on her ass. So, here you are, going door to door, checking in on other useless members of society, making sure they haven't died in their filth. Leaving a corpse to sit too long can really hurt the resale value of a place, after all. Not like these ponies weren't already doing that with their "living" habits.

Most of the fuckers already smelled like death, held up in their apartments. Snacking on cheese puffs, pissing in bottles, and generally being internet menaces instead of bathing regularly. Smelly bastards were always just ever so happy to have you knocking at their doors. Just beaming when they called you a normie and yell for you to stop bothering them. Yeah, sorry for being the only person curious if you've finally fallen off and died like the tick that you are, but It's my job.

Fucking ponies.

And why can't they just stick all the NEETs into one building, for crying out loud! Trekking up the last flight of stair in the fifth apartment complex of the day, you make your way to the end of the hall and begin to knock on the last door.

"Ma'am, this is Inspector Anon from the NIA, are you in?" Of course she was in. NEETs only left their dens under the cover of night, and even then only to buy cup noodles and snacks. You just have to wait for this mare- Floor Bored, the clipboard listed- to drag her flank across the apartment.

With a foot tapping impatiently, you knock some more and call out, "Ma'am, if you don't open this door in the next thirty seconds, I'll have no choice but to let myself in." Still nothing. What? Was she still sleeping? It's five in the afternoon, for Christ's sake, but you wouldn't put it past a NEETpone.

"Times up, I'm coming in Ma'am, so you better be decent." Not waiting for a response, you jiggle the handle, and it moves. At least this pony had the lack of commonsense to lock the door when she was indisposed just like the rest of her species.

The smell hits you first when you enter. Yep, just like a barn back home, musky and dank. Dim too, as to be expected. Heavy curtains cover all the windows, but the little light that finds its way inside only serves to illuminate the refuse layered atop the carpet.

Yep, we've got a level 4 NEET here. Let the hunt begin.

Pulling out your standard issue flashlight, you trudge into the room, sweeping your light source around in search of tracks. Looks like the pony hasn't set foot in the living room in quite some time, meaning they must have retreated into the depths of their lair sometime ago for whatever reason. Probably just got a new animoo or something.

Checking the first door you come across reveals a bathroom, relatively clean and most probably underused. That means this next door is the shitty jackpot. "Ma'am, are you in there? This is your last chance to keep me from seeing your bedroom, and we both know you don't want a stranger looking around in there..." After several seconds, you sigh and turn the handle, prepared to see just about anything

... Except for a pony hanging from their neck swinging lazily back and forth, hindhooves twitching minutely just above a swivel chair.

"... Jesus Christ," you wheeze, eyes wide before you shake yourself into action. Part of training to be a NEET Inspector was how to handle medical emergencies, but most of that training flies out the window at mach5 as you run up, fumbling for the old pocket knife at your belt. Wrapping a forearm around the mare's barrel, you start working your dinky blade through the cord strangling her.

"C-come on, almost... there!" The line snaps, and you take the full brunt of the mare's weight, discouragingly little as that may be, but you'll worry about that later. Right now, you have to find out if she's even alive.

"Ma'am, er, Floor Bored? Come on, speak to me," you plead as you lower her, trying to keep her steady in one arm while the other works to clear a patch of the floor of chip bags and soda cans. Her eyes are closed and you don't see her chest moving.

Shit. But she is still warm to the touch, so that's good right? Maybe you weren't too late. "Come on, stay with me Floor! Whatever this is about I'll help you through it, but you've got to open your eyes first!" You whisper this harshly as you begin chest compression like you were taught. "I'm not going to let you die, not today, not on my watch, so breathe, dammit!"

Lips sealed over hers, you breathe for her, trying to make her remember. It's like riding a bike; you never truly forget. So do it, you dumb horse! "Come on, come on, COME ON!" Switching several times between compressions and breathing, you feel your hope begin to slip away just as you place your mouth on hers one last time.

Then she starts coughing, raspy and weak, but oh so alive. You fall back on your ass, watching gobsmacked as the little mare rolls onto her side, coughing with a hoof to her sweater-covered chest. She looks up and sees you, and her expression morphs to match yours.

"Ah, hey there, Floor Bored, um, my name's Anon... Nice to meet you." Her expression twists further into a combination of mortification and sheer terror before her dark eyes roll back and she collapses. Well, it'll make getting her to the hospital easier, at least.

You'll have to get another inspector to check in on the rest of the names on your list for you. It's way too important a job to leave unfinished.

You understand that now.

Author's Notes:

Art by Scraggleman.
Well, here's a little something I've been working on, comment or PM any errors you find if you wish, this story doesn't yet have an editor.
I hope some of you find enjoyment from it.