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Brandy Branbean and the Mighty Apple Tree

Mickey

By Mickey
in The Stadium Wall Archives

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ExiledInIllinois Hall of Famer

ExiledInIllinois

Posted
Posted (edited)

First of all... Apple trees are best pruned regularly when they are dormant.  An overgrown apple tree that is too tall usually has a hard time bearing good fruit.

 

You can thank Belicheat and me later for this advice.

 

It ain't magic. 

Edited by ExiledInIllinois
WotAGuy Veteran

WotAGuy

Posted
Posted (edited)
  On 4/22/2018 at 7:34 PM, PromoTheRobot said:

Too long to read. Someone thumbnail it for me.

Expand  

It’s an allegory of how the Bills tried year after year to make something happen with Tyrod, only to give up in the end.  

Edited by WotAGuy
  • Haha (+1) 1
3rdand12 Hall of Famer

3rdand12

Posted
Posted (edited)
  On 4/22/2018 at 7:38 PM, LeGOATski said:

- A kid's tree finally grew some apples and he didn't pick them at first. Then he went to pick the next year and there were no good ones. Then he went to pick the next year, but there was not a big-enough ladder in the entire town.

 

He couldn't get any good apples. 

 

Moral of the story: oranges are better than apples.

Expand  

your and idiot

the moral was,  pears are better than Brazil nuts.

 asian pears specifically

read between the lines neophyte <_<

  On 4/22/2018 at 4:21 PM, Mickey said:

Scene: an apple farm in western ny.

 

Narrator:

 

It was finally September and little Brandy Branbean was soooo excited. For years young Brandy had tended to the apple tree in his back yard, waiting and hoping for the day to come when it would finally bear fruit. And the time had come, his little apple tree now stood tall and proud and in its upper branches grew four, shiny red apples ripening in the late summer sun.

 
“Should I pick them all? He wondered.
"If I pick just one, which one should it be?" His father warned him that these apples could be sour as the tree was still young and you simply can’t tell if an apple is sweet until you bite into one.
"And even if one is sweet, how do you know which one is the sweet one? Its all a crapshoot" his father explained. 
“Better to wait until next year” his wise old Dad explained.
“The tree will be older and bear more apples that are bound to be sweeter. Pick one now and you will stunt its growth, you’ll have fewer to pick next year.”
 
Brandy decided to listen to his Dad and, as hard as it was, he picked no apples that fall. He waited and waited and waited for spring.
 
Spring came after a long, desolate winter, bereft of apple pies, apple fritters and candy apples. Spring gave way to summer but Brandy Branbean’s apple tree did not flourish. It grew many feet higher but this time, it sprouted but two, small, wormy-green apples. Wrinkled and rotten, they hung from the tree unmolested by birds or squirrels, or dolphins or cardinals, who had no interest in the rotting fruit. Brandy didn’t bother to pick the worthless apples and set aside his hopes for another year. 
 
Winter came with a vengeance, and without sweet, sweet apples, was all the harder to endure. A wet spring caused Brandy Branbean’s apple tree to grow and grow and grow until it was twice as high and thrice as wide as it had ever been. And that summer many beautiful, ruby red apples grew and ripened in the highest branches.
 
September came at along last and Brandy Branbean went and got the tallest ladder in the county so as to finally reap his harvest of apple treats. But alas and alack, not even the tallest ladder in the land could reach those ripe, ripe, sweet, sweet apples. Brandy could pick and pick and pick but he couldn’t pick high enough to reach his heart's desire. He traded his ladder for a big stick and whacked at the tree, whack, whack, whack! But nothing dropped, his mighty tree stood still and the apples would not fall. Brandy was clever but the tree was cleverer and once again, Brandy Branbean faced another fall and winter without apple pies, apple butter, apple jam, apple wine, apple fritters and his favorite of all, spicy playoff apples.
 
Brandy Branbean’s old Dad picked the apples close to the ground but they were small, dry and without flavor.
"No matter," his fathers said, "at least they were easy to reach."
 
Little Brandy Branbean's mom tried to console her apple-less son with words sage and wise: “Sometimes son, you should maybe ignore your Dad for being old doesn’t make one wise, it just makes one old. Besides, that man once went 17 years without growing a single, edible apple."
 
End Scene.
Expand  

Luv Ya man ! very well done indeed. bravo

  On 4/22/2018 at 8:54 PM, WotAGuy said:

It’s an allegory of how the Bills tried year and after year to make something happen with Tyrod, only to give up in the end.  

Expand  

Tis 'bout Buddy Nix and his erectile dysfunction and Russ Brandons black market supply chain of low grade viagra

Edited by 3rdand12
LeGOATski Hall of Famer

LeGOATski

Posted
Posted
  On 4/22/2018 at 9:32 PM, 3rdand12 said:

your and idiot

the moral was,  pears are better than Brazil nuts.

 asian pears specifically

read between the lines neophyte <_<

Expand  

Your idiotcy has no bounds.

 

Apparently, you failed to ascertain the fact that the mom was suffering from raging alcoholism.

 

Why do you think Asian pears went through a historically low sales slump in 2005 and have never recovered? 

 

Duh.

 

Brings us back to oranges as the correct answer here.

 

The nuts are neither here nor there.

 

!@#$ing plebs...

CookieG RFA

CookieG

Posted
Posted (edited)

Alternate Ending:

 

Brandy gets her hand slapped, strawman comes to rescue:

 

<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M9bbxNV7QY8" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe>

 

They then find a rusty man of tin to play RT.

Edited by CookieG
  • Haha (+1) 1
mead107 Hall of Famer

mead107

Posted
Posted
  On 4/22/2018 at 4:21 PM, Mickey said:

Scene: an apple farm in western ny.

 

Narrator:

 

It was finally September and little Brandy Branbean was soooo excited. For years young Brandy had tended to the apple tree in his back yard, waiting and hoping for the day to come when it would finally bear fruit. And the time had come, his little apple tree now stood tall and proud and in its upper branches grew four, shiny red apples ripening in the late summer sun.

 
“Should I pick them all? He wondered.
"If I pick just one, which one should it be?" His father warned him that these apples could be sour as the tree was still young and you simply can’t tell if an apple is sweet until you bite into one.
"And even if one is sweet, how do you know which one is the sweet one? Its all a crapshoot" his father explained. 
“Better to wait until next year” his wise old Dad explained.
“The tree will be older and bear more apples that are bound to be sweeter. Pick one now and you will stunt its growth, you’ll have fewer to pick next year.”
 
Brandy decided to listen to his Dad and, as hard as it was, he picked no apples that fall. He waited and waited and waited for spring.
 
Spring came after a long, desolate winter, bereft of apple pies, apple fritters and candy apples. Spring gave way to summer but Brandy Branbean’s apple tree did not flourish. It grew many feet higher but this time, it sprouted but two, small, wormy-green apples. Wrinkled and rotten, they hung from the tree unmolested by birds or squirrels, or dolphins or cardinals, who had no interest in the rotting fruit. Brandy didn’t bother to pick the worthless apples and set aside his hopes for another year. 
 
Winter came with a vengeance, and without sweet, sweet apples, was all the harder to endure. A wet spring caused Brandy Branbean’s apple tree to grow and grow and grow until it was twice as high and thrice as wide as it had ever been. And that summer many beautiful, ruby red apples grew and ripened in the highest branches.
 
September came at along last and Brandy Branbean went and got the tallest ladder in the county so as to finally reap his harvest of apple treats. But alas and alack, not even the tallest ladder in the land could reach those ripe, ripe, sweet, sweet apples. Brandy could pick and pick and pick but he couldn’t pick high enough to reach his heart's desire. He traded his ladder for a big stick and whacked at the tree, whack, whack, whack! But nothing dropped, his mighty tree stood still and the apples would not fall. Brandy was clever but the tree was cleverer and once again, Brandy Branbean faced another fall and winter without apple pies, apple butter, apple jam, apple wine, apple fritters and his favorite of all, spicy playoff apples.
 
Brandy Branbean’s old Dad picked the apples close to the ground but they were small, dry and without flavor.
"No matter," his fathers said, "at least they were easy to reach."
 
Little Brandy Branbean's mom tried to console her apple-less son with words sage and wise: “Sometimes son, you should maybe ignore your Dad for being old doesn’t make one wise, it just makes one old. Besides, that man once went 17 years without growing a single, edible apple."
 
End Scene.
Expand  

Cute 

  • Haha (+1) 1
3rdand12 Hall of Famer

3rdand12

Posted
Posted
  On 4/22/2018 at 10:08 PM, LeGOATski said:

Your idiotcy has no bounds.

 

Apparently, you failed to ascertain the fact that the mom was suffering from raging alcoholism.

 

Why do you think Asian pears went through a historically low sales slump in 2005 and have never recovered? 

 

Duh.

 

Brings us back to oranges as the correct answer here.

 

The nuts are neither here nor there.

 

!@#$ing plebs...

Expand  

i kneel before your worthiness my Friend.
 perhaps we can agree to disagree here. because you are wrong. and of course i am correct.
neither here nor there though in the grand sum of Things

 

 and thank  you for the generous compliment. I take these moments to heart

 

Sincere regards

 and of course

 

Go Bills !

 -E

  On 4/22/2018 at 10:21 PM, JPP said:

Good write up...like the effort but i prefer Oranges.....

Expand  

never liked apples. unless my mom sliced them and put some salt upon them.

 

you have an issue with pears ?

 Is that what you are saying?

 

  On 4/22/2018 at 11:14 PM, Mickey said:

I will not explain my art.

Expand  

Nor should you.
eye of the beholder and such..

Pine Barrens Mafia Hall of Famer

Pine Barrens Mafia

Posted
Posted
  On 4/22/2018 at 4:21 PM, Mickey said:

Scene: an apple farm in western ny.

 

Narrator:

 

It was finally September and little Brandy Branbean was soooo excited. For years young Brandy had tended to the apple tree in his back yard, waiting and hoping for the day to come when it would finally bear fruit. And the time had come, his little apple tree now stood tall and proud and in its upper branches grew four, shiny red apples ripening in the late summer sun.

 
“Should I pick them all? He wondered.
"If I pick just one, which one should it be?" His father warned him that these apples could be sour as the tree was still young and you simply can’t tell if an apple is sweet until you bite into one.
"And even if one is sweet, how do you know which one is the sweet one? Its all a crapshoot" his father explained. 
“Better to wait until next year” his wise old Dad explained.
“The tree will be older and bear more apples that are bound to be sweeter. Pick one now and you will stunt its growth, you’ll have fewer to pick next year.”
 
Brandy decided to listen to his Dad and, as hard as it was, he picked no apples that fall. He waited and waited and waited for spring.
 
Spring came after a long, desolate winter, bereft of apple pies, apple fritters and candy apples. Spring gave way to summer but Brandy Branbean’s apple tree did not flourish. It grew many feet higher but this time, it sprouted but two, small, wormy-green apples. Wrinkled and rotten, they hung from the tree unmolested by birds or squirrels, or dolphins or cardinals, who had no interest in the rotting fruit. Brandy didn’t bother to pick the worthless apples and set aside his hopes for another year. 
 
Winter came with a vengeance, and without sweet, sweet apples, was all the harder to endure. A wet spring caused Brandy Branbean’s apple tree to grow and grow and grow until it was twice as high and thrice as wide as it had ever been. And that summer many beautiful, ruby red apples grew and ripened in the highest branches.
 
September came at along last and Brandy Branbean went and got the tallest ladder in the county so as to finally reap his harvest of apple treats. But alas and alack, not even the tallest ladder in the land could reach those ripe, ripe, sweet, sweet apples. Brandy could pick and pick and pick but he couldn’t pick high enough to reach his heart's desire. He traded his ladder for a big stick and whacked at the tree, whack, whack, whack! But nothing dropped, his mighty tree stood still and the apples would not fall. Brandy was clever but the tree was cleverer and once again, Brandy Branbean faced another fall and winter without apple pies, apple butter, apple jam, apple wine, apple fritters and his favorite of all, spicy playoff apples.
 
Brandy Branbean’s old Dad picked the apples close to the ground but they were small, dry and without flavor.
"No matter," his fathers said, "at least they were easy to reach."
 
Little Brandy Branbean's mom tried to console her apple-less son with words sage and wise: “Sometimes son, you should maybe ignore your Dad for being old doesn’t make one wise, it just makes one old. Besides, that man once went 17 years without growing a single, edible apple."
 
End Scene.
Expand  

Billy-D_Approves.gif

  • Like (+1) 1
BringMetheHeadofLeonLett Veteran

BringMetheHeadofLeonLett

Posted
Posted

Don't sit under the rosen tree with anybody else but me...

 

 

btw, anyone else have a bit of their childhood innocence mildly scorched when they realized, 'sitting under the apple tree' might have been a euphamism for sex during their parents' generation?

 

Aughto be the greatest, dirtiest, generation, as far as I can tell

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