Hulk Henry

Mr. Henry walked into the classroom not knowing what to expect. You never know what your day will hold when you substitute teach at a large high school with dozens of course subjects. Today it was an advanced art class.

“My name is Mr. Henry,” he addressed the class, writing his name squeakily on the chalkboard. “Last name, not first. We don’t know each other well enough for that.”

He turned toward the class and grinned. Students usually chuckled at that line. It broke the ice a bit. This time they were awkward and quiet for a moment, until someone blurted:

“Not yet, but we will.”

Everyone giggled and pulled out their sketchbooks. Mr. Henry lifted his eyes to a space above the chalkboard behind him, where a few students had been staring. It read “NATURAL UNIT”.

Mr. Henry cleared his throat.

“What did Mr. Burgeron have you all working on for today?” He picked up the lesson plan that the teacher had left on the podium for him.

"I hope you’re comfortable with this," it read. They could really use a new model.

Mr. Henry looked around the room at the students’ artwork and instantly recognized the face on their revealing sketches as that of Mr. Burgeron. He double checked the lesson plan. Couldn’t be. He looked at the calendar to see if perhaps it was the first of April. Even if it wasn’t, students often liked to mess with substitute teachers, especially if they seemed to be a bit of a pushover.

Mr. Henry was NOT a pushover. And he most definitely wasn’t about to let a bunch of kids see him in his Incredible Hulk boxers, either. He’d been pantsed in high school while wearing a similar pair, and the nickname Hulk Henry was the first thing he was glad to escape when he graduated all those years ago.

He thought for a moment. Mr. Burgeron went to his high school. He knew about the nickname. Had Burgeron specifically requested that Henry be assigned as his substitute for today? He decided to call the office.

“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Henry. I’m afraid your assignment today was entirely random,” reported Linda, the school secretary. “Is something the matter?”

Mr. Henry said it was nothing. He then began to search the room for signs of Mr. Burgeron or cameras he may have hidden. The students sat in silence, waiting to be instructed. Waiting for him to ‘model’ for them. There had to be some sort of rule against that. At the very least, a permission slip that was sent home to warn the parents. After all, these were high school students which meant they were minors, and it would seem Mr. B had been standing in front of them wearing only his boxers for at least a week now.

The students continued to wait, but Mr. Henry still rummaged through the giant wall of cupboards looking for Mr. Burgeron’s hiding spot. He wasn’t about to be embarrassed by a prank. With each swing of the small square doors, he half expected to find a curled up bearded Burgeron, laughing at him. Or maybe an embarrassing drawing of him from high school with the words “HULK HENRY” at the top. But he found nothing. Nothing but stacks upon stacks of art supplies.

When Mr. Henry opened the last cupboard door and all that was hiding behind were tubes of paint, he was furious. “Stupid,” he muttered as he picked up a bottle. “Stupid, stupid,” he bellowed as he swiftly smashed the canister to the ground. Why did he have to be so paranoid?

“Holy…” The students stared at Mr. Henry with wide eyes, still waiting for something to draw.

“No need to Hulk out, Mr. Henry,” someone muttered.

He chuckled. I guess he’s right, I did ‘Hulk out’, Henry thought to himself.

“You know what?” He paused. “That’s okay. Let’s Hulk out.”

And with that, Mr. Henry removed his shirt. He opened two bottles of green paint and poured them over his arms, rubbing the color in wildly, making a mess. He poured some on his hands and rubbed it into his cheeks and on his forehead. By now the students were laughing lightly and getting out their pencils. Henry stepped up to the center of the room in his Incredible Hulk boxers and listened to the students working, the paint dripping from his elbows onto the floor.

“This is the best art class ever,” he heard someone whisper.

He put his hands on his hips and smiled.