Yesterday, Hulk raced his bicycle. Papa and Baby clapped at the start, watching him speed away in a pack of spandexed, sunglassed men. (Actually, Baby only clapped in her mind. Her body's got no rhythm 'specially when there ain't no beat).
Once in a blue moon, Baby sees Hulk ride his bike quickly. Mostly, she's seen him ride alongside her: not quickly, but adoringly.
On Saturday, he was fast. And strong. She was proud.
But then something went horribly wrong. A banshee grabbed a hold of Hulk's wheel and started wailing. The sound she made: worse than fingernails on a chalkboard, worse than visceral responses to Steve Urkel's voice. Worse than the garbage truck rolling down the street on a morning you want to sleep in. An awful, awful sound.
Hulk stopped racing for a few minutes to investigate his wheel, but being who he is, he didn't quit. He got back in the race, only for something else to go wrong.
He got taken out by another rider, and F
...........................E
.......................................................L
...................................................................L
A sprawling mess. A broken bike. A smashed helmet. Rips and tears in skin and clothes.
Don't worry. All is well. Hulk is fine now. He'll be busy fixing up his bike for a couple of days, but other than that, he's in good spirits. It's good he has a few dedicated fans, like Baby and Papa and his brother.
The lessons (because sometimes these stories are didactic, and it's Sunday so Baby says I can put my preachin' voice on):
1. Don't pick up a comb off the street. It may belong to a banshee. And she may look for revenge when it's not convenient for you.
2. Don't give up part way through a race. Be like Hulk: a good sport. (Part of this means cheering on the people that do finish the race because they weren't hindered by banshees or Friday the 13th mojo).
3. Learn how to fall. In love. Headlong into things that matter to you. Falling is a cousin of Risk and Letting Loose, and sometimes is misread as failure. It's not.
-n&c-
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