Set them beside a bowl of oranges and watch the comparisons fly.
Erect apple-cairns around your neighborhood to warn outsiders that white people live there.
Hand them out to trick-or-treaters to teach them the meaning of disappointment.
Wait for the apples to soften to a tomato-like squishiness, then pelt them at racist comedians.
On second thought, why wait?
Apropos of nothing, rattle off all the different kinds of apples: “Honeycrisp apples, Ambrosia apples, Golden Delicious apples…” That twitching in people’s eyes? Envy.
Upload your shining haul to Instagram. You are now a demi-deity of the harvest.
Carve one menacingly in the break room, holding eye contact with that guy who’s always telling you to “ping” him.
Construct cozy little worm homes so no worms have to live in tequila bottles.
On second thought, do NOT gentrify the worm boroughs with your tacky apple-condos.
(Bare minimum, get input from the worm community and make the apple condos rent-controlled.)
Teach yourself to juggle.
Place one on your kid’s head for target practice, a la William Tell, the Swiss folk hero who said, “If I’m going to die, at least let me scare the shit out of my son first.”
Give them out to your friends. That twitching in their eyes? Gratitude.
Whip up one of your famous “appletinis” — a classic gin martini placed on a table next to an apple.
Dump them into an empty pillowcase, and the next time you want to check Twitter, go ahead and beat yourself. You’ll feel better!
Donate them to the Catskill Animal Sanctuary in Saugerties, New York. (Not a joke, just a thing you should do.)
Eat all the apples and hope the U.S. shifts to a fart-based economy.
Give one to that great, underappreciated teacher who is so exhausted from trying to get everyone into college — Elizabeth Warren.
Eat one a day to keep the doctor away, because you cannot afford for the doctor to come.
That twitching in your eye? I guess we’ll never know.