Episode One:

Things in the small town of Dominica have always been pleasant. The residents leave their doors unlocked at night; children respect their elders; people are just generally friendly…

A middle-aged woman is walking down the pier. She looks over towards the docks and notices a young man in a sailor's uniform. Smiling politely, she calls out to him and waves. He glares at her and flips her off. She gasps angrily and storms off as the sailor laughs bitterly and returns to his work.

…Of course, times change. Dominica still has an over-all "nice" feeling, but there *are* some rotten apples. Cases in point: Travis and Demetrius Johns. Almost as infamous a pair of brothers as David and Divad, Travis and Demetrius are the butts of many jokes in Dominica. They are notorious pot-heads, and even grow their own marijuana among the tomatoes in their vegetable garden. ("For medical reasons only.") No one knows why they haven't been arrested yet, except maybe because they are two of the most harmless creatures living. Plus, they're nephews of the local chief of police.
Travis owns and manages his own supermarket, Fresh Food, where Demetrius also works. The brothers have been on their own since their parents abandoned them to follow the Rolling Stones' tour eight years ago. Travis has been a good care-taker for Demetrius, if you look past all that weed nonsense.

The scene is in an alley behind Fresh Food. A tall, skinny teenager is sitting on a wooden crate, smoking a blunt. His short-cropped dark-brown hair hangs awkwardly on his head. He is wearing red Converse high tops, baggy, tattered jeans, a black Stones' tee shirt and a dirty white apron over his clothes.
A shout from inside faintly echoes through the broken screen door next to him, and he quickly stamps out the blunt on the ground, putting the rest of the butt in his apron pocket. He stands up and opens the wooden crate. The guy pulls out a small bottle of cologne and spritzes himself with it several times. He puts the bottle back as the voice sounds again. Hurriedly, he pulls out a pack of winter-fresh gum, pulls out several sticks, and shoves them all into his mouth, chewing furiously. He pulls open the door just as a large man opens it.

Man: "Dude, didn't you hear me calling you?"
Younger guy: "Sorry, man. I was listening to my music. I'm on break you know."
Man: "Demetrius, your break ended fifteen minutes ago. If you weren't my brother, I'd fire your ass in a heart-beat. Now get inside."
Demetrius: (shocked) "Travis, dude, sorry. I thought I was still on break. You know how I get when I listen to my music…"
Travis: (smiling wryly) "Yeah, you and your 'music.' I know, I know. You save me any 'music'?"

Demetrius smiles and pulls the blunt out of his pocket. He hands it to Travis, along with a lighter he pulled out of his pocket as well.

Demetrius: "Enjoy it, Travis. It's some good shit. From the plant next to the strawberries or something."
Travis: (taking the weed-cigarette and the lighter) "Okay, dude. Go inside and get back to work. Anyone needs me, tell them I'll be back in fifteen minutes."
Demetrius: "Cool. Okay, see ya later."

Travis walks out the door and holds it open for his brother, who walks inside and out of sight of the camera. Travis lets the door slam shut, then goes over to the wooden crate and sits on it. He puts the blunt in his mouth and lights it, using his hands to guard it from the non-existent breeze. He takes a long drag and holds in the smoke for a few seconds. Exhaling slowly, Travis leans back and smiles. The camera fades out on him…

…and fades in on Demetrius grabbing a mop and bucket of water and heading into the store. He makes his way past the deli, smiling mock-flirtatiously at the elderly woman slicing a honey ham. He continues to walk past the meat section and finally turns into aisle three (left side: sodas, juice, other beverages; right side: cookies, crackers, international foods). He walks to the middle of the aisle where a very embarrassed Nydia and Paul stand next to an enormous puddle of orange soda. Both are drenched in the liquid, and orange droplets drip off the tips of Nydia's curls. Four empty three-liter bottles are rolling back and forth on the floor at their feet.

Nydia: "Hey, Demetrius. Sorry about all this."
Demetrius: (smiling casually) "Hey, Nydia, Paul. No biggie. That's why I get paid. Should I even ask what happened, or just jump to my own conclusions?"
Paul: "Nydia is short…and dumb. Just know that much."

Nydia glares at him angrily, but then sighs in agreement.

Nydia: "Hey, Demetrius, do you have a bathroom or water of some kind in the back we can use to clean up?"
Demetrius: "Yeah, in the alley behind the store. But if you don't mind, can you go out the front? It's less ground you have to drip over in here."
Paul: "Sure, dude. We've already made enough of a mess. C'mon, Nydia, let's go."

Paul and Nydia wave to Demetrius and walk off towards the front of the store. Demetrius begins to mop up the floor, pushing the bottles to one side. A few quiet minutes past, and then suddenly, Demetrius' head pops up, his eyes wide.

Demetrius: "Wait! Don't go to the alley! It's not allowed…"

Demetrius blinks a few times as he realizes that Paul and Nydia are no longer there. He hits himself once on the head, then continues to clean up.

Demetrius: "Dammit. I really need to get better reflexes."

Meanwhile, Nydia and Paul are walking around the building, chatting and trying to drench each other. They walk around the back corner and stop abruptly when they spot Travis blowing pot-smoke into an alley cat's face. The cat paws at the air, trying to get the smoke to go away. Nydia and Paul walk slowly towards Travis, who is sitting near the hose. When they get to the hose, it is obvious that Travis is too wasted to either notice them or care that they are there. Nydia, still looking at the older man, takes the hose and begins to spray the sticky orange soda off of her friend. When she is done, Paul does the same, also looking at Travis. The market-owner, however, is still messing with the cat. When Paul is done, he turns off the hose and rolls it up again. He and Nydia hold a whispered conference, and then slowly walk away. Travis continues to laugh as the cat scampers away, running into boxes and such along the way. He reaches into a small box next to the crate and pulls out a small bottle of spring water. He chugs about half of it, then wipes the condensation off of his upper lip. He pauses, a contemplative look on his face, as if he is trying to remember something, then looks down the alley to where Nydia and Paul were. Seeing no one there, he faces the camera again, raises his right eyebrow, and then shakes his head and smiles. Travis replaces the lid on the water bottle, then stands up. He takes the cologne out of the crate and sprays just as much on himself. He puts it away and takes out the pack of gum, repeating the same ritual his younger brother had carried out earlier. Tossing the lighter into the crate, Travis opens the screen door and walks inside as the camera fades out.

The camera dimly fades in as the alley cat from earlier comes staggering back to the crate. Its eyes are huge and wild as it looks around suspiciously to make sure that no one is in the alley or watching it. When the cat is confident that there is no one else in the alley, it stands up on its back legs and leans into the crate. It pulls out another marijuana-cigarette and the lighter and places them on the ground. Looking down the alley towards the front of the store, the cat whistles like a canary. Another cat, a scrawny black Tom-cat, appears from behind a trash can. He waits for a second, then runs over to his friend. He stops and picks up the blunt.

Black Cat: "Dude, is this the shit you was talkin' 'bout?"
Alley Cat: "Yeah, dude, this is the shit. Damn! You gotta try this!"

The alley cat begins to giggle inanely and falls to the ground clutching its sides. The other cat snorts then picks up the lighter and lights the pot. He takes a drag, holds it in, then coughs a bit. Grinning, or doing the cat-equivalent, the black cat hands the blunt to his friend.

Black Cat: "You're right, my man. This is some of the best shit I've ever had."

The alley cat takes the blunt and takes a hit off it. He starts to laugh again, high-pitched and quick. The alley is filled with wasted-kitty laughter as the camera pulls away from the alley into the street. People quizzically stare down the alley as the screen once more fades to black.