Are you a real rough rapscallion? A fist-a-cuffin’ lad? A mischief-lovin’ cad?

We’re the Crabapple Boys, and we’re lookin’ for fresh new scores of rude dudes, bully boys, roughies, and toughies… For the express purpose of tusslin’ with our rivals, The Blueberry Boys, and our other rivals, The Skunks!


  • Enjoy tippin’ over hot dog carts for craps n’ giggles.
  • Like puttin’ pennies on train tracks and watching ‘em smoosh.
  • History of makin’ a racket on soup cans, well after midnight.
  • Have stolen at least one hot air balloonie from a monocled tightwad.
  • Can take a punch from a Skunk without so much as blinkin’.
  • Can teach a lesson to a Blueberry Boy without too much thinkin’.
  • Can hide in a tub of hot apple cider without even sinkin’.
  • Built like a railway spike!
  • Don’t take lip from no coppers!
  • Love your grand-mammy!


  • Makin’ life miserable for them Blueberry Boys, and them other boys, The Skunks!
  • Throwin’ fistfuls of rotten crabapple cores at the Blueberry Boys headquarters.
  • Droppin’ boxes of rusty nails on the ice rink where the Skunks practice their fancy routines.
  • Sneakin’ into Blueberry Boys kitchens and dumpin’ buckets of maggots into their famous Blueberry Pie Mix.
  • Stealin’ the Skunks’ skate-sharpener so they always have dull skates.
  • Smugglin’ sacks of rats into them Blueberry Boys’ pie shops, then lettin’ them rats loose.
  • Hidin’ under the bleachers at the Skunks’ ice rink and blasting an air horn right when a Skunk is about to do a double-lutz.
  • Leavin’ fake eviction notes from the Mayor at the Blueberry Boys’ pie factory.
  • Sabotagin’ The Skunks’ supply of machine oil so that they break their precious steam-powered zamboni.
  • Collectin’ crabapples from our byootiful 20-acre orchard, and stompin’ ‘em in a barrel for our signature drink, Crabapple Crap Cider. All proceeds of which officially go to a “special charity” for blind grand-mammys.
  • Whoopin' and hollerin’ and getting all riled up when the situation warrants—which it frequently do.


  • Take a streetcar into the heart of Blueberry-town, then find some big old B-Boys and give ‘em a right quick bunch of jibby jabbies and pipitty pops.
  • Sneak up behind two Skunks and tie the shoelaces of their ice skates together so they go tumblin’ around like dumb dumbs.
  • Fill a lady’s glove with one hundred tiny lead ball-bearings, then repeatedly smash it against the keys of a grand piano in a piano store until a copper fights ya.
  • Pour a bucket of Crap Cider into Blue Huey’s top hat—he’s the head of the Blueberry Boys!
  • Sneak into the Skunks’ ice rink and breathe on it till it melts.
  • Climb to the top of Old Blue—The Blueberry Boys’ bell tower. Hit that bell twice with a hammer to let us know your deeds is done.


  • Our founder, Little Davey Crabapple, had a loving grand-mammy who always gave him cider. When Davey got in a dust-up with Tom Blueberry—the original B-Boy—old Tommy poisoned Davey’s cider. But Davey’s grand-mammy drank it instead and violently perished. A vendetta was born! A week later, Johnny Junks, founder of the Skunks, told Little Davey that he’d never be any good at skatin’, thereby crushin’ his dreams. A second vendetta!


You will be most rigorously judged on enthusiasm when shouting our chants:

    • “Never met an apple I didn’t eat for lunch! Never met a Skunk I didn’t have to crunch!”
    • “Them Blueberry Boys messed up real good! Who’d fornicate a mule? Them B-Boys would!”
    • “When you got a black eye, use cold meat! When you see a nice old grammy, help ‘er cross the street!”
    • “Whoop whoop, beep beeps, skating is for creeps!”
    • “If you’re eatin’ blue berries, we sure ain’t friends! A vendetta’s a promise that never ends!”
    • “Horses, Pennies, Apples, Fights! A Crabapple Boy is a prince of the night!”


  • All remuneration will be in the form of 5-gallon jugs of Crabapple Crap Cider.


  • Write your name, address, and three toughest deeds of mis-chief on a dinner napkin you pilfer-ed from a fancy restaurant.
  • Glue said dinner napkin to a bucket of bricks and hurl onto the doorstep of the nearest cider factory.
  • We’ll let ya know!


If any coppers are readin’ this, The Crabapple Boys are a 501C ‘charitable organization' for the benefit of grand-mammys. So buzz off, coppers.