One left, one right. Two by two, on and on, ad infinitum.

No one has ever had any doubt about Johnny's prowess. The man has a fucking PhD in horticulture, and all without a day of instruction or a minute of in-class study. A natural, they said.

The trick was in the wrist. A little dip-and-flick, and they soar into the dirt with just enough force.

A master seeds-man, with few adversaries.

Damn 'munks don't know how to take a hint.

Bury them he did, but sometimes the little cretins would stumble upon the treasure troves and gobble the pre-germinated apple spawn and erode the potential groves.

The worst of them wouldn't simply satisfy with a snack, but gather up as many seeds as possible and stash them in their little sin-dens in HIS trees! The audacity.

Of course, he was no sociopath, and so the worst he could do was sling some pesticide and hope to fumigate the shit out of their nests.

Don't you judge Johnny Appleseed! Fuckers.