Wherever the lifeguards of the Rubout Brigade preside on duty as they long-since have the whole realm over, everybody playing on their watch does best if they do so by the rules, what with the fate of all who neglect, refuse or otherwise fail to abide being the name of the very game itself on any and every modern beach scene: death by suntan lotion.

For those interested in greater aspirations than simply surviving or even merely thriving, most namely joining the ranks of their overladies and gaining an ever-coveted say in who lives and who lotions, the primary means of entry are readily available at regular intervals through the Rubout tryout program, where any given candidate's only obstacles to admission come in the form of her every fellow candidate in the running. Per the Brigade's deviously deliberate designs, and very much openly-so, only a single winner is chosen for recruitment among each competing lineup; the consolation prize awarded uniformly to dead-last and runner-up alike as well as every girl in-between: death by suntan lotion.

The trending practice of known prominent cliques and otherwise closely-associated groups, often from noted professional backgrounds, opting in for a collective go on the tryout stage with the understanding that only one of them can survive and the impression that their sacrifice will be worthwhile so long as said exception does in fact survive and go on to enjoy the glory sought by her late friends-turned-rivals has been well-recognized by the Rubout Brigade's leadership for some time now in having indeed determined the outcomes of a near-majority of recruitment events since its emergence. The general public has picked up on the pattern just as well, hence its validation to the point of being seen as the standard, although not so much on the particular approach's inefficiency when most groups involved have proven skilled enough across the board for two or more members to have made the cut if only they'd had the patience to apply for different tryouts.

The latest lineup to hit the circuit: the sexy sextet of classically self-styled B.F.F.s Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie; claiming the bronze as the highest-rated hottie now being claimed for bronzing courtesy of an established executioness in Lifeguard Drew Saturday is Applejack, who'd been just about as confident as any tryout participant should ever have a good mind to be in her victory's viability as well as that of her long-term success in the lifeguarding game afterward: a prospect of commitment that is all-too-often overlooked even by those who actually do secure a license to lotion along with every responsibility it carries. By some measures of qualification, she may in fact have been the best fit for the job across today's competing roster, but alas, those are not the metrics officially recognized by the Rubout Brigade when it comes to recruitment, and so Applejack need no longer go concerning herself over her henceforth nonexistent future, nor indeed about anything else ever again as she begrudgingly submits to suntanning at Miss Saturday's fatally free-fondling hands, toughing out her forfeit more-or-less silently for most of its collection's process in letting out only a few grumbling sighs up until the endgame of lotioning's luxurious lethality. Come then, needless to say, Applejack succumbs to the sexiness of sunbathing with every bit of what euphoric enthusiasm is to be expected from any and every victim thereof for their decided lack of a choice in matters of their massaged mortality's invariably immodest consummation.