"Uncle" Marty brought his usual gift for my dad last night, a plastic bag full of cooking apples from his neighbor's tree. She's like eighty or something and gives Uncle Marty apples because she doesn't like them. He doesn't like them either. I don't even think my dad likes them, he just peels them down to the cores then eats the seeds.
Once dad told me there's enough arsenic in a pint glass full of apple seeds to kill a man. My dad is so weird.