Betsy Flapper has an iPod, and iPhone, an iPad, a MacBook, an iMac and a Mac Mini.
She also has an entourage: Kandi, Jacki and Tiffani. Their last names are not important; they are peons, constellations bathing in Betsy's radiance.
Betsy and her entourage arrived at the boathouse in the late morning on a hot Monday in July. They were researching the Canoeing issue of Slut magazine, with articles covering the slutty essentials: the right kind of thong to wear while canoeing, how to properly show off your boobs in a wet t-shirt, waterproofing your iPod/iPhone/iPad/MacBook, and how to pretend you're interested in canoeing.
There was a line of people waiting for canoes. Kandi started to get in line, but Betsy grabbed her harshly by the arm. "What are you doing, stupid?"
Kandi looked flustered. "Um..."
Betsy leaned forward threateningly and stared Kandi straight in the eyes. "Sluts do not stand in line".
Kandi looked ashamed. "I'm sorry. I'll try to do better. Please don't dump me."
Betsy gave Kandi a shake. "Really, I don't know why I bother with you, you're so dense."
Kandi was about to melt. "Please...I'll do anything. Please give me another chance".
Besty shook her again and released her. "Okay. Go wash my car. And when you're done with that you can wash my mother's car. Then we'll talk."
Kandi rubbed her arm where Betsy had held it. "Okay. Thank you. I promise to do better."
Betsy glared at Kandi. "You're still here? Disappear".
Kandi did so.
Betsy gave a knowing look to the remaining members of her entourage, adjusted her yellow tank top to show more cleavage and sauntered over to the head of the line, where Roderick had just finished helping a customer into a canoe.
"Hi Roderick", she cooed. "I just love to watch you lift those canoes...you must be soooo strong. Can you give me some special instruction? Maybe you'd like to paddle my canoe...?" She fiddled with her pigtail.
Roderick looked around. "Um...there's a line here... but there's a sheet there if you want to sign up for lessons. It quiets down around three."
Betsy pouted. "Oh! You're not going to make me wait are you? Mr. Armstrong will take care of those little people. I'm here now and I'm ready for you to teach me a lesson".
Mr. Armstrong, who had heard the entire conversation, intervened. "Miss Flapper, end of the line. Next customer in line please". Mr. Armstrong has a manner that conveys authority; the youth of Beauneville know that you don't mess with Mr. Armstrong.
Betsy returned to where Jacki and Tiffani stood, looking frustrated. "That Roderick is a tough nut to crack", she complained.
"I think he's going with that mouse Molly Bloom", Jacki volunteered.
"Pfah!" said Betsy. "Where was she when they handed out the boobs."
"Playing the piano!" exclaimed Tiffani, and the three laughed uproariously.
Jacki could hardly control herself. "And that Roderick! What a loser!"
Betsy stopped laughing, grabbed Jacki by the collar, held her menacingly, then released her and stalked away.
