Philosophy, Psychology, Nerdisms, Writing from the Trenches

Something we can all enjoy

You know what I love?

My Hulk Hands.

I know. It’s a weird, mysterious love for something that’s a toy. Something dumb and ridiculous, but still amazing. So, let me tell you a story.

Hulk Hands came out with the first (not quite excellent) Hulk movie.  Massive foam-rubber fists that went up to about mid-forearm and made noise when you hit things. You know the ones.

Hulk Hands

At the time, I was young(er). I didn’t have much disposable income, as most of my money went (and still goes) toward books, and begging my parents was really not an option. But, these Hulk Hands were such a Thing of Want, I had to force myself to stay out of the toy aisle. They made my Christmas list, but Santa declined.

When I heard of the new(er) Hulk movie, my heart leapt. There were bound to be tie-in Hulk Hands and now I was old(er) and could drive myself to Target and had my own job and my own money to throw at whatever I deemed worthy. But, what I got was disappointment.

Padded Hulk Hands

What is this noise?

Really? Padded? I was so sad. I couldn’t even…argh. Not foam rubber at all. These were like Stuffed Animal-Hulk Hands. Where were the veins? Why didn’t they look all muscley? Despite my wanting-hunger-pains, I couldn’t bring myself to purchase these…travesties.

Then, Avengers came out. A cardboard Hulk hung from the ceiling, guiding the children (and I) to the toy aisle, promising a glut of superheroics. I followed the decal foot stomps to the back section.

And they were there. One last pair of Hulk Hands. I stared at them. They stared at me. I took a picture of them. I glanced up and down the aisle because I had to TELL someone. I wanted to run through Target and tell everyone that I had found a pair of Hulk Hands. Because they were foam rubber. And green. And muscley. And there were veins.

Hulk Hands

It was so strange. This thing that I had wanted for 8 years was finally within my reach. Those years of not having it didn’t lessen the want, this burning desire for something as trivial as foam rubber fists. I hadn’t assigned any significant meaning to them. I had no attachment to the Hulk, more than a general enthusiasm for all things Marvel. I wasn’t going through something when I first started wanting them.

I know everyone says that material things can’t make you happy, but, guys, my Hulk Hands make me happy. They make me really happy. When I’m said, I put them on and just wear them around the house. I bang them together like a boxer getting ready for a bout. You can’t cry when you’re wearing Hulk Hands.

Perhaps there is some greater meaning behind my Hulk Hands. I mean, we all like to get what we want, right?

But, then again, they’re only toys.

KATE SMASH!

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