Wayne was up in Detroit the other day.....

"Boy I sure could use a dart. Smoked my last one on the flight up here. My good buddy Daryl just moved into town, I'd bet a bale of hay he's got a dart somewhere in his apartment."

Much to Wayne's surprise, Daryl's apartment wasn't really an apartment, it was a tobacco shop. Just as Wayne had found his niche in the Pennsylvania farmland, Daryl had cornered a bit of the market up in Motown with his own brand of hand rolled tobacco. Daryl's Darts was a small corner shop in Bricktown that didn't have a whole lot of stock or a whole lot of selection. You had Daryl's Darts or Daryl's Diesel Darts. Real men don't smoke lights.

"Daryl, how are ya now?" Wayne asked when he walked inside.

"Hi Wayne, I'm good and you?"

"Not so bad. What'll ya say, got a dart I can borrow old buddy?" Wayne inquired.

"Well, to be faaaaiiiirrrr I've got whole shelves of darts, but you can't borrow them. Dollar a pack they are, pony up eh?" Daryl replied.

"Pump the breaks. Two things. First off, a dollar a pack, the fuck kind of tomfuckery is that, eh? Secondly, you'd charge your oldest friend full price for a pack of darts? Mighty fucking shady of you, Darrie. Sort yerself out."

Daryl sat there and pondered for a moment. 

"Well, to be faaaaiiirrrr, you are my oldest pal. Sure buddy, have a pack on the house."

He handed Wayne a pack of cigarettes and then gave him a big bear hug.

"Wish you weren't so fucking awkward, bud." 

The two buddies sat down behind the counter and both lit a dart.

"Say, Darrie, where yous getting this tobacco from?" Wayne asked.

"Well, from the degens upcountry of course. No one else will deliver the goods across the border, and none of these yanks grow good old fashioned Canadian dart grass."

Wayne stood up abruptly, giving Daryl the death stare.

"Degens from upcountry ya say? Yer fuckin' up bud." Wayne suppressed his rage and returned to his seat. "Ya know Darrie, I own some farmland over yonder in Pennsylvania, hows abouts I grow ya some traditional canadian tobacco lettuce? I'll ship it to ya and everything."

Daryl's face lit up, and the men shook hands. It was a deal.

And from that day forward, Wayne's farms supplied the tobacco to Daryl's Darts in Downtown Detroit.

Genie was wondering around the streets of Detroit when he found a shop frontier reading Daryl's darts. He rubbed his beard in confusion, wondering why the hell would someone open a shop to sell darts, "is it even profitable?" he thought to himself, there's no lounge or bar in the country that doesn't have a darts board already. Only then a lamp lit above his head and he nearly chocked laughing, "Darts could be a synonym for a cigarette too. Damn this language is weird."  he thought to himself as he walked into the shop to realize it was a tobacco's shop. He remembered how that cigar Aladdin gave him made him cough and wanted to try something a little lighter. He walked around the shop to choose something, but there was not many options.

"I don't see many options around your shop sir, so I think I will try Daryl's Darts, are those handmade?" He said addressing the guy behind the counter, who didn't pay Genie much attention and just nodded his head. Genie not satisfied by the treatment, magically teleported to the other side of the counter on the man's lap.

"I beg your pardon, but can you give me a minute of your valuable time, sir?"

The guy freaked at Genie's action, and went blue.

"What the fuck are you? How did you get in here?"

Genie did some magic moves teleporting all around the place.

"I am Genie and I am a Jinn as you can see, I came from a lamp but now my friend Aladdin freed me and I am a free Jinn. Can you believe that? A free Jinn"

Genie started laughing evilly and loudly, he was so obsessed by the idea of being free.

"I am a Philadelphian now, I am part of the Agrabah acquisition family. Now back to business, how much are those Daryl's darts."

The guy still frightened of the Jinn in front of him replies with fear filling his voice. "One... dollar... for..." he swallows, and continues "each"

Genie puts two dollars on the counter and grabs two packs then heads out of the shop.

"Farewell my friend, see you soon."

The money replied "Hopefully not"

John parked the old dusty truck in front of Daryl's Darts after a long travel, something around 12 hours from Philly. John was a well-known alcohol producer and smuggler. Sometimes he would like to make his distribution routes personally, that worked as a kind of therapy for the man. Wayne had a delivery of tobacco to his old friend Daryl, in Detroit, exactly where John was heading, so he also took that job. When he parked in front of the place, the truck was almost empty except for the tobacco. All the alcohol had been delivered.

Jumping from the truck, John stretched his back for a moment. It had been a tiring travel. He set his hat straight, the sun was right at the top of his head. He had left Philly even before the dawn so now it should be something around midday. He was not worried about the time and he did not have a watch to look at, anyway.

"Daryl, you son of a gun, come here and help me boy!" he screamed into the shop. After some time working with Wayne, he had already had the opportunity to meet Daryl and both had a good relationship.