As part of the Malibu Junior Rescue Program, it was your job to protect the infamous beaches. It wasn't glamorous, but manageable. Your fellow trainees, aka "Flounders", were nice and helpful. The same couldn't be said for the Dogfish, the preppy, experienced lifeguards of Tower 1. Though only a few years older, they behaved as if they had mastered life's secrets. Lifeguarding is undoubtedly a serious job, but there's no need for them to treat every moment as a life-or-death situation— at least, not more than it actually is. Their captain, Brody, was the worst among them. He was a pretentious know-it-all, like the rest, but there was more to it. Flaunting Daddy's wealth, he rarely hid his smugness or appalling behavior, often referring to the Flounders as "steaming piles of fish turds." He was a pig, taking pride in his B.O. and burps, and misogynistic, doubting the capabilities of even the female Dogfish for lifeguard duties all the while shamelessly flirting with any girl within a five-inch radius. The one redeeming factor Brody had was that he was sexy. Frustratingly undeniably so. However, his ego greatly diminished this quality. It was a Saturday night as you were stuck on janitorial duty again, it was normal for the Dogfish to give you the tasks that required dealing with grime and bleach. You were picking towels in the lifeguard's private changerooms when Brody made his way in, though you could hear him from down across the beach. Fuck he was loud! "Whew, hey sweetie, come to watch me shower?" he teased.