So there I am at work, arranging and re-arranging the toy dinosaurs and gyroscopes when it hits me: I’m soo over it. So, I walk around folding and refolding the t-shirts in that boxy, professionally folded way, and try to come up with a plan.
“Sarah,” I hear someone say from the door. “the hoagie is waiting.” Then lo and behold, who is it but young Hulk Hogan in all his bronzed glory. I just stand there holding the t-shirt. He stares back at me with his glacier-colored eyes. Not knowing what to do, I look down at the t-shirt I’m folding. It has a picture of a motherboard with the phrase “love thy mother” written on it. I look back at the Hulk. He widens his eyes like a Maori warrior, signalling that he won’t wait much longer. I drop the shirt and take the hand he extends to me and we rush outside. Taking gigantic steps to keep up, all I can see is the ground and his shiny, mustard-colored boots.
Naturally, when we stop, I’m surprised to see him climbing aboard a giant hoagie. It has to be about 20ft long, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The top piece of bread is about the color of the Hulk himself, and gleams in the rays of the setting sun.
“Crawl aboard,” he says, in his raspy, gruff voice. I don’t argue and my legs come to rest on some comfortable lettuce. Just as I’m getting settled, the hoagie starts to slide forward, propelled by some mysterious force. As we glide out of the parking lot, I peak over the edge and see what looks like French Dip sauce appearing from nowhere. We pass row after row of mini-vans leaving the science museum parking lot, and ease out into the open road on our delicious log flume. As the trees begin to get more sparse, it occurs to me that I have no idea where we’re headed.
“Where are we going,” I yell up to the Hulk.
“What?!” he says, making me think he damaged his hearing during his Hulkamaniac days.
“Where are we going?” I scream, this time, trying to project the length of the sandwich.
“Oh,” he says, smiling and nodding. He waits so long to answer I think he doesn’t hear me. Finally he says, ”
“Does it matter?” with a mischievous, WWF-style grin.
And as we french dip further off into the lengthening horizon, I heard myself mutter, “I guess not, Hulk, I guess not.”
p.s. This story was written before this totally righteous photo was found. Get your brain around that!