Johnny Appleseed woke behind a Taco Bell dumpster with apple seeds in his beard and a parking ticket stapled to his tunic. 

The year was 2025, the air smelled faintly of vape juice and synthetic optimism, and Johnny was—once again—an unlicensed horticultural menace.

He stretched, yawned, and immediately got to work: flinging apple seeds like a lunatic across the median of a six-lane highway. “Grow free, my fruity children!” he shouted, dodging a Tesla driven by a golden retriever influencer.

Within hours, tiny saplings sprouted miraculously from asphalt cracks. A Lyft driver cried. A pedestrian took a selfie with one and added the caption: #NatureNuisance #JohnnyBeTrippin.

Ever on a mission from whatever rustic forest god whispered to him in the wind, Johnny marched on. He sowed seeds in drive-thrus, airport terminals, crypto startup offices, and once inside a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit. 

By sundown, his work was chaos incarnate and vaguely fruity.

But his Edenic vision hit a wall when he reached the Sunny Acres Luxury Subdivision and Lifestyle Community (gated). He attempted to toss a single Honeycrisp seed over the wrought-iron fence, only to be intercepted by Linda, HOA President, armed with a clipboard and the wrath of a thousand passive-aggressive emails.

“Sir,” she sniffed, examining him like an invasive species. “This is a zoysia-only landscape. No rogue flora.”

“But the land cries out for biodiversity!” Johnny exclaimed.

“This is a zero fruiting zone,” Linda hissed, snapping her fingers. Two private security guards tackled Johnny into a decorative koi pond.

He was fined $800, sentenced to 20 hours of community service (ironic), and banned from all HOA-governed land in the continental United States.

Still, as he was escorted away, soaked and grinning, Johnny noticed a tiny, rebellious sprout pushing up through Linda’s imported Italian gravel.

He winked. The apple uprising had begun.

The End