>A loud bang echoes throughout the house.

>The lumbering green faggot breaks his slumber from the disturbance.

>“Oh what could it be now?” Anon wondered.

>“It has been three weeks since I harbored those ponies and I’ve yet to get some decent sleep! I feel like I’ve definitely bit off more than I could chew.” He muttered to himself.

>In the midst of the dark, Anon checks his clock.

>“3:30 AM? Guess I can say goodbye in trying to get more sleep.“

>Admitting his defeat to get more sleep, Anon decides to go make some coffee to waive the groggy aura that afflicts him.

>“Might as well go check up on all that racket too.“

>On his way to head to the kitchen, Anon passes by the room where Heartthrob and Maggie are sleeping.

>“Sleeping like a sack of rocks, huh?” He whispers to himself.

>He’s always been a light sleeper, and envies those that could sleep through hurricanes and be totally oblivious to what had happened.

>As he makes his way downstairs, another loud bang is heard.

>“What could that filly be up to?” He thought.

>“Sounds like it could be coming from the garage.” He deduced.

>On his way to the garage, Anon gets ready to start his coffee pot, but upon turning on the lights, he realizes the chaos unleashed within his kitchen.

>Multiple drawers opened, some halfway.

>Various silverware rummaged through, countertops littered with clean bowls from the cabinets, some of which fell on to the floor.

>Anon sighs, “She really knows how to make a mess.“

>Before checking up on all the ruckus in the garage, he clears the floor of the various bowls, places them on the countertop, and sets up his coffee to start brewing.

>Upon opening the garage door, Anon is appalled by the mess in his garage that he had spent so hard cleaning earlier.

>Various boxes and equipment have been rummaged through that he so neatly stored.

>Before he could let out an angry gesture, he looks to his left to see what that troublesome filly was up to.

>He is greeted with her trashcan, but it was different, surprised by the crude ingenuity of that filly, he was able to make out that she transformed her trashcan into some sort of Dalek cosplay.

>“She must’ve gotten into my stuff again to find the inspiration to make this.” He thought to himself.

>The trashcan seemed to be fit with all the iconic features.

>A plunger taped to the trashcan’s right side, a whisk to the left, a number of bowls taped all around the lower half, a couple of lightbulbs on the handle of the lid, and even his favorite telescope peering out from in between the can and the lid.

>Anon gives out a pretty good chuckle after inspecting it from afar.

>He looks around the garage, but is surprised to not see the filly anywhere.

>Seeing as there’s no where else she could have gone, Anon attempts to open the lid.

>An unsettling feeling emerges from within Anon when he hears a voice from the trashcan.

>“HUMAN DECTECTED.” Emitted from the trashcan, in a weird, almost threatening attempt at the monotone Dalek voice.

>Anon backs away, realizing that he may have just made a threatening gesture to her by trying to open the lid.

>The trashcan moves toward him with malicious intent in a sliding fashion, causing him to flee out of the garage, through the kitchen, and up the stairs.

>Despite the adrenaline boost from his fight or flight response, Anon is still burdened by a lethargic, tiresome feeling, causing him to try and catch his breath at the top of the steps.

>In his attempt to relax, he sees the trashcan sitting at the base of the steps.

>He knows that filly has a lot of trouble getting up elevated positions whilst in the trashcan, so he lets out a sigh of relief and a little chuckle.

>Little did Anon know that he had entirely forgot about her magical abilities, so she levitates the trashcan up the stairs, chasing him into his room.

>Tired, cornered, and fearful of what’s to come, anon accepts his fate.

>The trashcan looks at anon directly in the face through the telescope.

>“YOUR ANKLES MUST BE EXTERMINATED!” screamed the trashcan.

>For the next ten minutes, the little filly beats Anon’s ankles with the plunger.

>Needless to say, another sleepless night, and Anon will never be able to see plungers the same way again.