I wake up with Whisk against me, like I’m hugging a teddy bear. A warm, feathery and furry teddy bear. We always cuddle, but it’s always nice... until the fucking alarm sounds out. I softly groan in annoyance and reach out to hit snooze on the clock, only to realize it’s not my alarm. I look around in confusion before remembering Maple’s in the guest room. I hear the alarm turn off and a door open. I decide to shrug it off, and think he’s just an early riser. I don’t have to wake up until- I look at the digital clock... Ten minutes from now... Ten minutes sounds good. I return to my original position, comfy and warm in my bed. I ain’t got shit to do in the next ten minutes, so I’m not gonna do anything.
“Ow, shhhhhhoot!” I hear Maple quietly say. I frown and slowly open my eyes, deadpanning at the wall ahead of me. “No no no- don’t spill-“ Yep, I’m gonna have to get up. I carefully let go of Whisk and get out of bed. I put on some fluffy plaid slippers and silently leave the room. I walk down the hallway, which is a dull blue, and see the kitchen light is on. “Okay, right, bacon, eggs, and uhhhh, cheese!”
“What’re you doing?” I ask, entering the kitchen. I catch Maple in the middle of frying some bacon on one pan, some eggs on another, and buttered bread on a third. Maple yelps and looks around to see me.
“O-oh, sorry uncle, I was trying to cook breakfast for myself quietly,” he says. I glance at the ingredients.
“... Is that for a bacon egg and cheese sandwich?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Maple says. I nod.
“Tell you what, after you’re done, I’ll cook some for Whisk and I, and we can talk while I cook, okay?” I ask. Maple smiles and nods. “Cool. So, how were your last years in high school?” Maple chuckles.
“Uh, where to start. I had a crush, went on a date, Garlic Garden’s forbidden from me now-“ He stops to look at me. “Don’t ask.” I laugh at that.
“Who was the lucky gal?” I ask. Maple rolls his eyes.
“Don’t get me started. She was a rich kid who thought I was stupid. I almost felt guilty for dumping her, but she had another boyfriend in a week.” Maple puts the cooked ingredients together to make his sandwich, and I start cooking my own.
“I’d say that’s rough, but that’s tons better than my first girlfriend,” I say. “Hey, how’re you’re parents?” Maple kind of freezes up at that, but takes a nervous bite out of his sandwich.
“Well, um...” he sighs. “It’s a... kinda long story...” I look behind myself to see him looking uncomfortable.
“... What happened?” I ask. He gives a hollow laugh.
“Ha, uh, they just... Well, they don’t get along anymore. They’re being more and more distant with each other...” Maple says. “Mom calls my dad too soft, dad calls my mom too harsh... I got really tired of hearing it, and decided to try and move out as quickly as I could.” I turn off the oven and turn around to fully face him. “Uh, I guess when I took the Equestrian position, I might’ve thought about that...”
“Hey, hey, look at me,” I say. Maple looks up, and he’s near to tears. He might be over eighteen, but I can still see he’s still a kid under it all. Not naive, mind you, but he’s not entirely ready for the real world just yet. “I can kind of understand, you needed space, right?” He nods. “And I imagine you think your parents do too, right?” He nods again. “Okay. Well, you know you’re always going to be welcomed here, so stay as long as you want.” Maple smiles.
“Thanks, but I do have an apartment in the city. Don’t worry, I’ve got my phone with me, so I’ll call you if I need help,” he says. I nod.
“Good. Now-“ I turn the stove back on. “Go to the living room, pick a channel to watch, and I’ll be with you, okie dokie?” I ask. He chuckles.
“Okie-Dokie? Since when have you ever said that?” He asks. I laugh.
“Experience my boy, and a lot of it...”
Maple, Whisk, and I sit on the couch in the living room, watching the news. “Police are reporting to be warey of alligators with hair driers from the local sewers,” the reporter says. “In other news, a bandit has been giving local doves tiny knitted hats. No one knows why.”
“His goals are beyond our understanding,” I say under my breath. I look at the time and my eyes widen. “Shoot, I’m almost late.” I get up and look myself over. White t-shirt, plaid boxers, and if I put on the coat, I’d look like a total hobo... Fuck it, I’ve done worse. I get up and put on my coat and hat.
“Um, honey, I know you’re almost late, but don’t you normally wear a red shirt and some pants?” Whisk asks.
“I’m gonna make Yoda look like a professional businessman, I’ve got a job interview to do, and I want anyone that’s not up to it to leave. In any case, love y’all,” I say. With that, I put on my slippers and walk out. Maple looks on with confusion.
“... My uncle’s the best,” he figures, chuckling as he continues watching the news.
I walk down the streets of Manehatten, and onto the premise of the Manehatten Border Checkpoint. Of course, my first stop is the business building. I remember telling Thin Page to come in this morning, I bet Clipper’s having a stroke at how smelly the griffon is. I open the door just in time to see Clipper hitting Page over the head with a clipboard. “Mr Anon is not nearly as bad as you think he is you oaf!”
“Settle down Clipper, I’m not worth fighting over,” I call. Clipper sighs, turning to me.
“See? Mr Anon is a professional, competent, well educated-... Why do you look like a homeless pony Mr Anon?” Clipper asks as Page chuckles.
“Didn’t feel like dressing today. I figured I’d get that crazy-old-sensei vibe. In any case, come with me Page,” I say.
“What, not gonna sell me a watch?” He asks. I open my mouth to retort, but close it.
“... Touché smartass,” I say. “But no, let’s go to my office. I want to talk to you before I tell you what’s up.” We walk into my office, I sit him down on a chair. As I sit down, I start talking. “Alright, so here’s the gig. I want you to take part in an interview I’m conducting. You’ll be interviewed along with other ponies also applying for the job. See, when the last inspector was employed, he was taken off the streets and told to do his best. Now, I have a special feeling about you, but unlike Celestia, I’m not gonna just throw a dirty hobo from the streets into a booth and call it a day.” I withhold the information about me being that homeless guy to make sure he doesn’t see me as a way of taking advantage.
“Okay, so what if I win this bet of yours?” He asks.
“You get a relatively stable job with certain benefits,” I answer. “Benefits that aren’t offered by many other businesses.” Page nods.
“Okay, and if I lose, I get that bag of money you kept shoving into me, out of damage to my pride?” He asks. I nod.
“Yep. You get that money like a little bitch.”
“... Alright, sounds fair, I’ll try,” he says. I nod.
“Good. Now, tell me about yourself,” I say. He looks up in thought.
“Uh, born in Griffon Stone, my dad ran away when I was five, my sister and my mom took care of me for a good while, they kicked me the buck out, I thought I’d find opportunity in Equestria, turns out ponies are really bucking racist, and then some weird shithead found me from another failed job and offered a ridiculously good sounding bet,” Page says. He narrows his eyes at me “Now that I answered that question, I wanna ask one too. What’s the real catch to all this? No one just offers a job out of the goodness of their heart. Especially not to some random stranger off the street.” I look at him for a minute before laughing.
“You’re sharp, huh? You’re right. I didn’t do it out of pure goodness. I did it because you remind me of someone I once was. Call it a hunch, but I feel like you need this.” Page scoffs at me.
“I’m the one that needs it? Sure, okay buddy,” he says. “I call bullshit on that, but I’ll see where this goes. I’ve got nothing better to do.” I give a small smile.
“Good. I’m sure you’ll love it here. Now, wait in the lobby, I’ll-“ I’m interrupted by Clipper walking in.
“Excuse me sir, the candidates are here.”
“Oh... well then, never mind, come on,” I say. We walk out into the lobby. There, seven ponies sit around. Some are old, some are young, but they all look professional compared to Page. Page looks at me with a deadpan expression. I smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He rolls his eyes.
“Now I don’t know why I bothered,” he says, sitting down.
“Alright everyone,” I say, getting everyone’s attention. “I’m about to start the interview, so please get in a-... Fuck it, I’m pulling you guys up randomly. Basically, answer honestly and be prepared. I’m not gonna ask everyone the same questions, except for the first three. Capiche?” One hoof comes up. “What?”
“Um, why are you wearing thin plaid shorts?” A pony asks. I look down, remembering I’m technically still in my pajamas.
“... These are not shorts, these are boxers. They’re like fur for covering up the private bits,” I explain. Everyone’s face twists into confusion and slight disgust. “Alright, eenie meanie, fuck no, you,” I say, pointing at the nearest stallion. He has a pale green coat with a dull blue mane.
“Uh, okay,” he says. Now, let the trials commence.
“Alright,” I say, sitting down. “First question, what’s the highest education you’ve got?” The stallion beams.
“Oh, I graduated from Hayvord University!” He says proudly. I hum in acknowledgement.
“Alright. Second question, how good are you under pressure?” I ask.
“I’d like to think I’m pretty good,” he says. I nod,
“Alright. Third question, how do you feel about long hours?” I ask. He smiles.
“I’ve worked long hours before, especially on group projects and in retail,” he says. I nod.
“Final random question. Picture this, you’re working in a small booth. The smell is horrid, you’re tired, and suddenly, a person comes in. You notice that it’s closing time, but this person, in this case, a minotaur, wants to enter.” I cross my arms. “What do you do?” I ask.
“Turn them away of course,” he says. “They should’ve gotten there sooner if they wanted to pass.” I hum.
“Alright. Thanks for your time, we’ll contact you if you got the job.” I hope to fuck this guy doesn’t rely on getting this job.
“Thank you! Hope to see you soon!” He says.
The next interviewee has about the same shtick. College education, thinks they’re good under pressure, and are okay with long hours. However, they seem to be a bit impatient, even going as far as to tell me to hurry up.
I look up. “Alright, final question. You’re trying to get home, but you see a passed out pony on the street. What do you do?” I ask. The mare Ikm interviewing clears her throat.
“I would contact the police and let them handle it,” she says.
“... And?” I ask.
“Well, there shouldn’t be anything else for me to do, the police should handle it,” she says. I hum.
“Well then, thanks for your time. We’ll contact you if you got the job,” I say.
“Finally,” she mutters, leaving.
“Impatient bitch- Next up, the uh, blue guy!”
The next interviewee is a bit different. Graduated high school, decent under pressure, a little miffed by long hours. I do notice how he mentioned how he mentioned that this job’s payout is higher than he expected.
“Okay, final question. A cloaked pony walks up. He asks you to deliver a poison to someone at a water purification plant. If you do, he’d pay you. He reassures you that it won’t hurt anyone, it’s for rats. How would you respond?” I ask. The pony chuckles.
“Isn’t it obvious? The guy says its fine, so it has to be fine.” I hum at his response. Fucking idiot.
“We’ll contact you if you’re qualified. Thanks for your time,” I say. With that, as the guy exits, I stop to face palm in sigh. “Fuck that guy.”
The next interviewee is another stallion who looks a bit rough around the edges. His responses were short and on point. He graduated high school, he’s good under pressure, and he doesn’t care about long hours. He seems really tough.
“Alright, final question. A mugger tries to mug you in the middle of the night. He holds you at knife point. He tells you to just hand everything over, and no one gets hurt. What do you do?” I ask.
“... I can say anything, right?” He asks. I nod. “... I tell him to put the knife down, he’s right. No one has tog get hurt. I can lend him my bits, I currently don’t really need money. But if he tries to take any more from me, I will not hesitate to bring him down myself.” I nod. That’s actually a fairly decent response. Page has some competition.
“Alright. Thanks for your time. I’d like you to go find a pony named Spearhead. Tell him I asked you to wait with him. He should be somewhere in the courtyard. If not, ask around.” The pony nods.
“Thank you,” he says, getting up to leave.
The next pony to come in, is grinning. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he says with a British accent. “I have the bits, and this dump could use it. So how about-“
“Get the fuck out. This isn’t an EA Game,” I say. He gasps.
“Excuse me?! I’ll have you know-“
“And I’ll have you know that I could not care less, even if I tried,” I say. “Now get out.” The pony scoffs and leaves. Alright, four more to go.
The next pony to come in, looks like a cheerful mare. I sigh. “Alright, highest education?” I ask.
“High school, I dropped out of college,” she says. I nod.
“Alright, how well do you do under pressure?” I ask. The mare smiles.
“Absolutely horrible when it comes to paperwork!” She says. I blink.
“... Okay. How do you feel about long hours?” I ask.
“Mostly fine, as long as I’m doing something!” She says. I hum.
“Alright. Final question. A door is jammed shut, ponies are trapped inside a room where there’s an electrical emergency of some kind. What do you do?” I ask.
“Oh! I’ve been through that before!” She says. “I find the fuse box outside the building, turn off the power, and then fix the door!” She says excitedly.
“... Okay. Let me ask a different way. What if you were trapped inside instead?” I rephrase. The mare pauses.
“Uh... I think I’d make sure everyone was safe. What kind of room is it?” To that, I smirk. She’s first pony to ask me to clarify something about the situation. I won’t hire her for Inspector, I don’t think she’d be able to handle that.
“I’ve got a better question. Is there any other position you’re interested in?” I ask. She blinks in surprise.
“What?”
“Well, I can’t give you the Inspector’s job. It gets overwhelming. But, you look like you’ve got a bit of potential, so go talk to the secretary, Clipper, and see what other jobs you’d like to take. I can probably get you some training to fully qualify,” I say. The mare smiles widely.
“Oh! Thank you so much! I won’t let you down!” She says. With that, she walks out and I can hear her talk to Clipper.
“Alright, whoever wants to go next can come in!” I call. The next pony to come in is a familiar face. “Steve?” I ask. Steve, now with bright blue and dark blue paint, gives a mechanical wave.
“Hi human!” He says.
“What- since when did you get here?” I ask.
“Oh, two of the ponies left, something about a schedule, so I offered to fill in!” He says robotically.
“Uh, this is a job interview Steve,” I explain.
“Oh, a jooob interview?” He asks. “I have heard about such things. Tell me, has it been proceeding well?”
“Uh, I guess. Are you here to apply?” I ask. He mechanically laughs.
“Ha Ha, no silly human! My creator said I should explore around for a bit to see if anything’s changed!” He says.
“... Okay... so why’re you still here?” I ask.
“To finish this lovely chat!” He says.
“... Uh, I’m kind of busy,” I say. He nods.
“Very well then! I hope to see you again!” With that, the robot walks out.
“... Welp, that happened,” I say to myself. “Uh, is anyone left?” To answer my question, Page walks through the door, confused.
“Was... was that a robot pony?” He asks. I shrug.
“It’s not the weirdest you’ll see. I met Cthulhu once. Nice squid,” I say. Page looks at me, trying to see if I’m sarcastic.
“... Shit, you’re serious,” he says. I nod.
“Alright, you’re the last guy. First question, what’s your highest education?” I ask. He sighs.
“I dropped out of high school around twelfth grade, so... I guess none?” He asks. I hum.
“Can you read?” I ask. He scoffs.
“Bitch please, I can read better than everyone I’ve ever known. I used to love reading dinosaur books, where the names just get ridiculously long and complicated,” he says, chuckling. “Nowadays, I’d consider myself pretty good at reading.”
“Alright, are you good under pressure?” I ask.
“Uh, I guess so. I mean, I only dropped out of high school because it wasn’t paying the bills... and my mom wasn’t any help,” he mutters. I ignore that comment, and go to the next question.
“Would you be okay with long and grueling hours,” I ask. He scoffs.
“You’re talking to a bucking homeless person. What could I possibly be doing other than sitting around in a shack and starving?” He asks. I shrug.
“Weed, drugs, alcohol, you name it,” I say. He laughs.
“Alright then, yeah, I’m good with long hours.” I nod, leaning back.
“Final question, are you ready?” I ask. He nods. So far, this is the question that will really determine whether or not I’ll let him work here. “Picture this, you’re in a strange place. At first, you had to live on your own, where no one will help you. People have torn your home down two or three times, so you decide to room with someone you know. You don’t necessarily like that person, but they put up with you enough to let you stay at their place. One day, they said something out of context, and everyone who heard it used the worst context they could think of and turn it against you, using it as an excuse to get rid of you.” I look at Page, only to see the griffon’s eyes are focused on mine. I can see a lot of gears turning, a lot of thoughts flying around. “Basically, everyone’s against you, and wants you to leave. What do you do?” I ask.
“... I would think of the worst things I could do,” he starts. “I would think of what I haven’t done, think of what I could do to make sure that if they thought I was as bad as they think I am, then I would give them a reason to.” I keep a stoic face as I hear this. “... But I would think that it’s pointless. They’d probably hate me no matter what. So, if they want me to leave, buck it. I’ll bucking leave.” He looks down, and I can see he stopped talking about my scenario. “If they don’t want my help, fine. Let them suffer. It won’t be my problem anymore.” I can tell he’s picturing someone as he talks, someone to focus his anger on... I smile and clap, bringing him out of his daydream.
“Welp! Get up, it’s time to work,” I say. He blinks.
“Uh, what?” He asks. As I walk by, I pat his back.
“I said come on. You’ve got work to do. The real test begins kiddo,” I say. He grunts as he gets up.
“I’m not a kid, I’m nineteen,” he grumbles.
“Did I fucking stutter?” I ask, leading him. As we walk, Clipper waves bye to us as we walk out. “Okay, first thing to know, the work station is that building over there,” I say, pointing at my regular office. Page scoffs.
“I thought that was a janitor’s closet,” he says. I laugh.
“If only,” I say. “Now, when it comes to this job, you will be stamping papers,” I say. Page quirks an eyebrow.
“Papers? So, am I a secretary or something? You said I was ‘inspecting’ something but-” He stops as I shake my head and take out a cigarette and light it.
“Nope. Passport inspector,” I say. Page’s eyes widen.
“Ex-bucking-scuse me?! You pulled a random homeless griffon off the streets to be-“
“Hey, the last guy we pulled was a fuckin’ great inspector. Worked here for eleven or twelve years, stopped a war, so on and so forth,” I say. Page scoffs.
“Wait, don’t tell me, is it the Knight of Manehatten?” He asks. I scoff in turn.
“Trust me, he ain’t anything like a knight,” I say.
“I bet he’s some pretentious asshole,” Page says. I laugh loudly.
“You know, sometimes he is,” I admit. “Today he isn’t working. Give me a sec to get the sub.” I open the door, to the surprise of a pony inside. As I close the door behind me, the substitute turns to me in the swivel chair. This sub is an older stallion, Grey with a black swirly moustache, a short grey mane and a monocle.
“Oh, Mr Anon, what a surprise! I thought you wouldn’t be working today?” The pony asks as I walk up to the desk.
“Oh, I’m not, but I got a candidate here and I wanna see if he’s as good as I am,” I say. The pony sputters.
“Good as- surely you’re joking!” He exclaims. “I’ve worked here for twenty years sir, and despite how you’ve worked half as long, you haven’t even reached a quarter of the mistakes I’ve made!” I lean back.
“Did you actually count how many-“
“It’s on record sir, every passport inspector has a record,” he says. I blink.
“... Since when?!” I ask.
“Since Nineteen-X-X-X-I-“
“Just say the fuckin’ year, we got rid of the numerals for a reason,” I groan.
“Erm, since nineteen-thirty-four sir,” he says. I shake my head.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me this kinda shit?” I ask. The sub shrugs.
“We thought you knew.” I sigh, face palming.
“Okay, well, nonetheless, you can go home early today,” I say. The sub smiles.
“Very well! Have a good day!” He says. He packs up a couple things in a saddle bag, sling it over his shoulder and quickly walks out.
“Come on in Page! The office is ready for you,” I call. Page walks in, and shivers.
“What the hell? Why is it so cold in here?” He asks.
“To beat out the summer heat. Sometimes, the winters aren’t cold enough to warrant the AC turning down. Here-“ I take off my hat and pluck it onto Page’s head. “It’s all I can give you for now. Keep it until you can afford your own hat, alright kid?” He huffs.
“Bucker, I’m-“
“One other thing, because it’s annoying me, say ‘fuck’ instead of ‘buck’,” I say. He frowns.
“And why the hell should I?”
“It rolls off the tongue a bit easier,” I say. He looks at me in confusion before humming.
“Fuck?... You’re right, it does roll off the tongue,” he notes. “So, what’s next?” He asks, sitting in the swivel seat.
“Next, you read the rulebook, take note of what’s in the drawers, and get started. I’ll be back to see if you’ve gotten any pink slips for mistakes. Depending on how well you do, I’ll decide whether or not to keep you around. Sound simple enough?” I ask. Page looks at the desk in front of him, eyeing over the buttons, levers, my radio, and the mic. His eyes land on a picture frame I forgot to take. It’s the picture of me and Whisk, from some time ago.
“... Wait, that’s you,” he says, taking the picture. “Wait a minute... this is you’re fucking office. And what’s more-“ He stops to point at me in the pic. “I bet you could see your feet!” I look at the picture... I look at myself... I look at him with a smirk.
“Ha Ha smartass, keep it up if you think you ain’t gonna catch these hands,” I say. He snickers as he opens up the rulebook. He slowly frowns.
“Wait, there’s like- how many fucking rules are- Diplomat seals!? The fuck?” He asks. I turn, puffing up some smoke.
“Welp, you look like you’ve got this under control. See you around lunchtime kid,” I say, walking out. With that, I close the door and simply walk back to the office building. As I walk in, I pass the excited mare I interviewed earlier, who was following a guard somewhere. Must’ve found something to do. When I walk back to my desk in my office, I get out a spare radio I keep for emergencies. In this case, I’m just too lazy to go find Spearhead. “Hey, Spearhead, this is Anon. Two things. One, there should be a pretty stoic as fuck guy I directed to you. Try to see if you can convince him to join the local guard. Two, I left my radio with the candidate that’s taking over my position for today. Just FYI.” With that, I lean back. I don’t need to do any paperwork until around ten or eleven, so I’m just gonna take a nap for now...
Meanwhile
Thin Page looks at the list of rules incredulously. “Why... why is there a rule about trombones!? What the fuck is even half of-“ he stops to take a breath. “Right, fucker threw me into the deep end. You know what? Fuck it, if he wanted me to succeed, he should’ve fuckin’ explained this shit to me personally,” he mutters. He takes a moment to look at the rulebook’s description of all the buttons. “Right so... this is for x-rays... this is for detaining... and uh... this is for the mic? No, that’s uh... fuck, uh... that’s for prints and printing. Right. Okay, simple enough,” he mutters. He looks at the clock. “I should probably start... Fuck it, here goes nothing.” He presses the mic button... only to find that’s the finerprint button. “Oh fuck off-“ he looks at the book again. “... Oh! This button- um, next,” he says into the mic.
The next entrant is a light blue unicorn. “Hark, the Great and Poweful Trixie has finally arrived!” The entrant says. She looks to see Page, and frowns. “Oh, you’re not the human.”
“No, I’m not. Papers please,” Page says. Trixie huffs.
“Are you not amazed by my amazing and astounding presence!?” Trixie asks.
“I’m more amazed by how you haven’t given me your passport yet,” Page notes.
“Of course you’re amazed! Because the Great and Powerful-“
“Will you give me the damn papers?” Page asks. “I don’t think I have time to play with parlor tricks.” Trixie smiles.
“So you know of Trixie’s amazing magic tricks?” She asks.
“I’m going to kick you the fuck out if you don’t give me your passport,” Page deadpans. Trixie sighs.
“Very well Trixie shall grant your request,” she says. She levitates her passport to Page, who looks through it.
“... Your weight is drawn in crayon,” Page mutters. He looks up to see that Trixie’s weight exceeds what her passport says. “Why is your weight off by fifty pounds?” he asks.
“Trixie is sure the scale had something against her!” Trixie replies. “Obviously, Trixie is slim, and a Trixie knows herself well!”
“... Sounds like denial to me, but okay,” Page says.
“T-Trixie is not in denial!” She says.
“Sure. Turn for the scanner,” Page says. He presses a button.... only for an alarm to ring. “SHIT-“ he presses it again, which luckily turns it off. “Fuckin’ too many button-“ he grumbles as he looks at the buttons before pressing the x-ray button. The shutters come down, a couple clicks are heard, and a picture is printed out.
“Trixie feels like this is excessive,” she says.
“And Thin Page says this is procedure because someone had to redraw their weight’s number in crayon, which Page thinks is stupid as fuck,” Page says. He looks at the photo. “... Yep, not carrying weapons, just denial.” Trixie fumes at Page as he stamps her papers green. “Now fuck off,” he says, handing her papers back. Trixie huffs as she takes her papers back and leaves. Page smiles. “You know, I think I might actually like it here,” he mutters to himself. He leans towards the mic. “Next!” He calls.
I puff out some smoke as I come up to Spearhead on a courtyard away from the office building. After I got a good bit of paperwork done, I decided to visit Spearhead to see how things are going for a break. He’s busy talking to that guy I sent over earlier. “... And most importantly, never choose the breadsticks. They might taste good, but it’s not worth what they do to your stomach.” Spearhead looks up and notices me coming over. “Oh, hey Anon. I just got a new recruit.” I snicker as the stallion turns to me.
“Sorry, I was offered a spot, as long as I go through training and boot camp here,” he explains.
“No problem, I had a feeling this was more up to your speed,” I say. I breathe in some smoke and puff it out as I turn back to Spearhead. “I found a new sub.”
“Oh, really? I thought you’d take a little longer,” Spearhead notes.
“Well, he’s got potential, and an attitude I like. He reminds me of me,” I say.
“How?” He asks.
“He’s a homeless griffon I pulled off the street,” I say. To this, Spearhead and the stallion look at me in shock.
“He’s what?” Spearhead asks.
“Homeless,” I reply. Spearhead looks down in thought.
“... Well, if he’s a friend of yours, then I guess-“
“I met him yesterday,” I say, giving a small smirk.
“.... I can’t tell if I should be worried, or angry,” Spearhead says.
“Eh, don’t worry about it. He’s a lot like me, so I’m sure it’ll be relatively-“ I’m cut off by a sudden feedback from Spearhead’s radio.
“Uh, Butter-Armored Guard, there’s someone that wants to talk to my manager,” Page’s voice says. I sigh, looking at the time on my phone. It’s almost noon, so now’s a pretty good time to check in on him anyway.
“Tell him I’m coming,” I say, turning and walking away. As I walk, I hear Spearhead chuckle a little as he walks by my side.
“He’s coming,” he says to the radio. The stallion follows behind us, curious to see what happens.
As I walk up, I motion for the others to stay back for a bit. “I wanna see if I can sort it out by myself,” I say. I open the door, and head in. Inside, Page is flipping off a turquoise-ish pony that’s fuming.
“I have a passport! You have to let me pass!” She yells.
“The only thing I have to do is sit here until my boss says otherwise bitch,” He replies.
“Alright, alright, what’s the problem?” I ask. The pony, who’s blond-ish pink hair is an eyesore, looks over and smiles.
“Yes, the manager! See, this rude and absolutely barbaric griffon says that I can’t pass because of a ridiculous reason!” She says. I hum.
“Hey, Page, can I see her passport?” I ask. He shrugs and hands it to me. I take it, open it, and look it over. “... Uh, why does the stamp have ‘Pre-Approval’ on it?” I ask.
“Because I’m high class and special, unlike filth like him,” the mare says, pointing at Page. I hum.
“Oh, you’re special alright,” I say, earning a snicker from Page as I take out the rulebook. Honestly, higher-ups could’ve made a rule change and completely go over my head, making what she says viable. However, I can’t seem to find such a rule.
“Excuse me!? What’s that supposed to mean?” The mare asks accusingly. I flip through the book.
“It means... that I hear a bitch-ass liar,” I say, putting the book down. “Pre-Approvals don’t exist. Thus, since the passport’s stamp-indicator’s tampered with, you have earned an automatic denial.” The mare sputters.
“B-but- but- I’ll sue!” She threatens.
“Oh? You’ll sue me? In the land you illegally tried to enter by using a fake passport?” I ask. She gulps.
“H-how do you know it’s fake?” She asks. I scoff.
“You aren’t tactful, from what I’ve seen, and anyone with two brain cells to rub together would know that once you’re caught, you can’t back out. So, either you’re a surprisingly good forger with knowledge about official documents and access to government-owned ink stamps, which would be held against you as illegal ownership or abuse of such items, or you asked someone else to do it. So, do you wanna press this issue even further, or do you wanna leave? I’m feeling generous today,” I say. She huffs, glaring.
“Fine, I’m leaving!” She says, before storming off. I flip her off as she leaves. The door opens, and I look over to see Page trying to leave.
“Where are you going?” I ask. “Thought you were okay with this job?” He sighs, turning to me.
“What, like you’re not mad at me for not handling that?” He asks. I shrug.
“I think you handled it pretty well,” I say. He quirks an eyebrow.
“... No lecture? No ‘You should’ve been nicer’ speak?” He asks. I cross my arms.
“Damn, was I nice to her? Must be losing my touch,” I say. Page closes the door, walking back to me.
“Uh, you know, usually this is the part where ponies fire me,” he says.
“No, this is the part where I look to see if you’ve made any mistakes,” I say. I look around, and notice that the trash bin has a card in it. I pick it up. “The fuck is-“ I immediately drop it back into the bin when something not safe for work greeted my gaze. “.... Anyway, did you get any pink slips?” I ask Page.
“Pink slips? What are they for?” He asks. I hum as I check the drawers. No slips. I nod.
“Alright, so, I can’t take you in as a substitute,” I say. Page deadpans.
“Are you fucking-“
“I’m gonna have to hire you as an official Jr Border Inspector. It pays more, you’ll be taking over half the week, a full twelve hours of papers and bullshit like this,” I say. Page’s eyes widen a bit as I turn to him and stretch. “The pay’s good, but it’s based on how well you perform. So, if you’re gonna take this job, you damn well better do it right. Since you’re homeless, I can try and get you a house, but it will probably be something like a small apartment. So, don’t expect any-“
“Is this happening?” Page genuinely asks. “Are you actually offering a job to a rando you found on the streets?” He asks. I shrug.
“You can say no if you want,” I say.
“... You said I could get an apartment?” He asks. I nod.
“The first week of apartment costs is on me, but you’ll need to earn the rest,” I say. “So, deal or no deal?” The griffon looks down for a second, staring at the floor to think.
“... I guess that sounds good,” he says. “But uh, can I pick where I want to live?” I shrug.
“Sure, just don’t pick a penthouse or anything like that,” I warn. He nods.
“I know, I know, I just don’t want to live in another fucking shack,” he says. I nod.
“Amen kid,” I say. I look at the clock, sighing. “Well, you’re free to go then. Go and pick out a place. You seem responsible enough to know what your limit is.” He looks at me, nodding. “Be back by six. Do you have any money for food?” Page reaches around and feels around.
“Uh, I think I’ve got enough for a McDonalds meal,” he says.
“Right, let me get you some money,” I say, taking out a bag of bits from my coat.
“No- no!” Page says. “I earn my money, not-“
“This is your half-a-day’s pay. You earned it,” I say. He furrows his brow and starts to say no, but his stomach audibly growls. He sighs, taking the bag and looking in. His eyes go wide.
“T-this is-“
“Like I said, this job pays well depending on how well you do. But know this, your new job is important. If you make a grave mistake, or endanger people’s lives in any intentional way, shape, or form, I will not hesitate to fire you on the spot,” I warn. “I’ll be honest with you, if it wasn’t for the fact that you remind me of a younger me, I would’ve given you the cash and walked away. I wouldn’t give you this opportunity if you were just anybody.” I put a hand on his back and pat him a couple times before walking to the door. Page looks back at me as I take out a cig and light it. “I’m taking a chance by trusting you with this. From what I’ve seen, you’ve got potential and a fair bit of smarts on you. So, don’t fuck it up, okay?”
“... I guess I can give it a try,” he says seriously. “Quick question though.”
“Shoot.”
“Can I yell at ponies like you?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Fuck yeah,” Page says, smiling. He looks at his gold and looks back at me. “Um, also, thank you. I won’t fail you, old Geezer.” With that he walks out as I freeze up with a cig in my hand.
“... Did that little shit just call me old?” I ask as I look after him. I look back at the desk through the door, blowing out some smoke before putting my cigar out on the concrete outside. “Oh well. Papers won’t stamp themselves.”
Page sighs as he leaves the fifth apartment building he checked. “Celestia Damn it- if it’s not an asshole landlord, it’s an asshole neighbor.” He looks up in thought as he walks down the streets of the city, passing various creatures who are rushing one way or another. “Fuck, if I don’t hurry, I won’t be able to pick a place I want,” Page mutters. “Let’s think, are there any places I haven’t checked? Roller street’s fucking shit, so fuck that. Long Road is too far to walk to work, and-“
“Halt! Thief! Stop! Cease! Desist from running dangit!” A voice yells. Page looks behind him to see a diamond dog running towards him, being chased by a griffon with a police uniform. The griffon takes to the air, only to run into a street lamp headfirst. As he plops to the ground, Page hisses at the undoubtably painful hit.
“Shit, that looked like it hurt,” Page comments. As the dog comes up, Page looks at the bag of unspent gold he still has. “... This’ll do,” he decides, before swinging it around and slamming into the side of the dog’s face with the heavy bits. The dog crashes down, unconscious from the blow. “Okay, that looked like it hurt a bit more,” Page snickers. “Think before you steal next time fuckface.” Page looks back to see the officer limping up to him, with a bit of a bump on his feathered head. His feathers are a bit strange, being a sort of purple-ish red color. Page thinks it’s fuchsia, but he isn’t sure.
“Thanks, I’m sorry I made a fool of myself,” the police griffon says.
“Maple! You dolt!” A gruff voice yells, causing the griffon to jump. Both griffons look over to see a bulky light blue earth pony with a yellow combed mane, wearing a police uniform as well. “I told you to wait for backup. You’re lucky this citizen decided to help, or we wouldn’t find that mutt again.” The officer, Maple, sighs.
“Sorry sir, it won’t happen again,” he says. The pony sighs.
“Ugh, just- look. I’ll hand it to you. In the past five hours, you’ve managed to find suspects we never even looked at. So I’ll just let this one slide.” He turns to Page. “And don’t think I don’t recognize you Thin Page. I can see the bag. Where’d you get the money?” He asks suspiciously. Page scoffs.
“Fuck off, I got it legally asswipe. You know I don’t do drugs or shit like that,” he says.
“Uh Huh, that’s what all homeless ponies say. How about you really tell me how you got that cash?” He asks, crossing his arms.
“I dunno, how come you weren’t helping your buddy here chasing a criminal?” Page asks. The pony glares.
“Look here smart ass-“
“Wait- hold on, I recognize that hat,” Maple says. Page blinks.
“Huh? What- oh,” Page takes off the hat Anon gave him. “Yeah, a weird-ass guy gave it to me when I started a job today.” The pony officer laughed.
“You? Getting a job? Who in their right mind would hire you?” He asks. Maple smiles.
“I think that’s my uncle’s hat!” Maple says.
“Uh, Buddy, the dude’s a tall monkey,” Page says. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look like a monkey uncle’s nephew.”
“No, that’s my uncle! Uncle Anon!” Maple says. “You must’ve needed it, he normally never gives anyone that hat!” Page blinks in surprise before looking at the hat in confusion.
“Would your uncle give him that bag of bits though?” The pony asks skeptically. Maple looks at the bag.
“Well, if I remember correctly, I’d say that’s about half of his pay. You said you were starting a job today, right? It’s not even four, so I’m guessing he let you off early,” Maple mutters. “... It’s reasonable to assume he got it legally, I would say.” The pony looks at Page for a second before sighing.
“Alright slick, I’ll trust you on this one,” he says, turning to get the diamond dog. He looks at the crowd around them, which had started forming when Page knocked the dog out. “Move along, nothing to see here,” he calls. Maple turns to Page.
“So, how’s working for my uncle? Pretty neat, right?” He asks. Page shrugs.
“He’s pretty fucking weird, no offense. He let me off early to find an apartment to live in, do you know any?” He asks. Maple hums.
“Well... No, not really,” he says.
“Dammit,” Page curses. He looks at the sky. “I’m running out of time, and patience. I can’t find a single fucking place in this Celestia-forsaken city that’s actually decent. At this rate, I’d rather stay homeless!” Maple hums.
“Why?” He asks.
“It’s a combination of the place stinks, the neighbors are noisy, and the landlords suck ass,” Page replies. Maple’s eyes widen with excitement as he thinks of something.
“Oh! Oh! Why not be my roommate?” He suggests. Page stops and looks at the griffon.
“... What?” He asks.
“You know, roommates! I’ve always wanted a roommate, and I kinda need one since my wages aren’t gonna cover the bills as well as I’d hope,” Maple says. Page squints his eyes.
“I’ve known you for all of two minutes, and you’re okay with me moving in with you?” He asks. Maple nods.
“If Uncle Anon trusts you, so do I!” He says confidently. Page looks him over to see if there’s any signs of ulterior motives, but he can’t find any. After a moment of silence, he sighs.
“You know, so far, you and your uncle have a bad habit of being really fucking trusting,” he says. “Sure, I guess. Why the fuck not?” He asks tiredly. At this point, he’ll take it. Maple smiles.
“Awesome! My apartment’s not too far from here. Go down this street, take a left, down a couple blocks, and you’ll see a big neon sign that says Trio Star!” Maple says. Page nods his thanks and sets off. He looks back at Maple, who waves bye to him with a grin.
“... Yeah, I guess this job really won’t be so bad after all,” Page mutters, smiling a little as he looks forward to walk.