"Mom?" Scootaloo's voice echoed through the nighttime halls of her house. "Moooom? Are you home?"
The light flickered on as the filly flipped the switch, a faint buzz emanating from the light fixtures. Scootaloo yawned as she wandered into the kitchen, her eyes catching a note taped to the fridge.
Scoots, I'll be out again for the next few days on a recovery mission by Celestia's orders. If you're hungry, I've made sure to stock the fridge with your favorites. Don't forget to turn the stove off after you finish cooking! I've already seen my fair share of scorched ceilings.
Love, Mom.
Scootaloo frowned, tearing the note from the fridge door and sticking it in the doorway. The glaring lights of the fridge blazed from the machine as she opened the door, her stomach grumbling. Finally, her eyes landed on a foil-wrapped lump with "spaghetti" scrawled across in marker. Sighing, the filly pulled the pack from the fridge, wandering to the pantry immediately after in search of a can of sauce, the wrapped, pre-cooked spaghetti lump still dangling in her muzzle.
Click-click-click-click-click-click-Fwoosh. The stovetop alit with flame, a small pot sitting on top of the range as Scootaloo unwrapped the spaghetti. A putrid smell hit her nostrils as she tore away the foil. Scowling, the filly turned the stove off and dropped the moldy mess in the trash. She made her way back to the refrigerator.
Once again, Scootaloo blinked in the blinding light of the fridge's interior, bending down to get a better view of the lower shelves. With a groan, she slammed the door shut, and instead set off once again for the pantry.
Crunch.
Scootaloo's eyes scanned over the words of her mother, A.K. Yearling, or as she was better known, Daring Do.
Crunch.
The filly unwrapped another granola bar, paying little mind to the pile of silvery wrappers as she took a bite.
Crunch.
Her attention turned back to the note that now hung from the doorway.
Love, mom.
Mom. Her mind echoed, Why are you always so busy?