Cynthia took the bottle out of the box and grinned. Peroxide, Yes! There was no way of knowing when she'd be able to get to a proper hair salon, and her lovely blonde (for the moment) roots would need a peroxide touch up.
The blazing sun wasn't doing anything for her blinding headache. She had to find some shade. She turned away from the ocean, and saw the jungle encroaching on the beach, just twenty paces away. That would do for now.
There better not be bugs. She abhorred bugs. Reginald was a man, he could debug the area. As her butler, he was more or less her indentured servant. She walked up the beach toward the greenery, leaving deep footprints in the soft sand.
"Reginald, Reginald I need you!" She called in a ladylike high pitched squeal. No response.
"Where are you, you bloody bombastic buffoon? Reggie!" Cynthia screeched in her best fishwife voice. There was still no sign of Reggie, anywhere.
When she reached the jungle, she plopped her double wide bottom end down in the scrub grass. She shaded her eyes and looked down the line of green where the jungle ended, and the beach began. She gasped with excitement. Was she really seeing what her wine affected eyesight thought she was seeing? If it was, then this was a spectacular find ...