Dr. Horrible and the Hill of Doom

I must pull you aside prior to me launching into my latest story addition to apologize for my lack of grammar and/or spelling. This posts are usually written in the middle of the night, and at times are accompanied by tears. Either one makes for a terrible editor, and usually leaves you wondering how on earth I made it through grade school much less college...I'm just saying - don't judge! ;-)



Okay, on to Dr. Horrible.



In this episode, Dr. Horrible happens to be a bit younger of a super hero with more brown than gray in his hair, and considerably more brain mass. You know how wine or cheese is better with age? Well, such is the case with Dr. Horrible (for the most part). On this day he must have been about mid-aged...but I definitely wouldn't have eaten him.



Yours truly (wait let me fluff and primp...okay) was knee high to a grasshopper, and hadn't yet lost the hope that she (I) would continue to grow. One of my favorite past times was being Dr. Horrible's side-kick on days when we would drive to the nearby state prison to buy the cheap fire wood they sold there. Now on this particular day we climbed into Dr. Horrible's mode of transportation, which in-and-of itself was story. The giant truck was one you needed a ladder to get into it, and it was so old that holes had rusted through the body. Since you can't have holes in your vehicle and pass inspection Dr. Horrible had patched the holes with pink cement stuff (love my description?). Thus, we set off in a giant black truck with pink spots...lets just say we weren't looking like the toughest guy on the block...Anyways. That morning we set off through town and up the winding side of the mountain that bordered our valley. This morning however, did not go as smoothly as others in the past had. Half way up the mountain our vehicle in crime died a tragic death relating to the small fact that Dr. Horrible had forgotten to get much needed gas.

There we were, pulled over on the side of the mountain about five miles from home, and this was before the blessed days of cell phones (wow I feel old). Dr. Horrible determined that we must make the long trek home on foot, and so off we started; my little legs trailing after the longer stride of Dr. Horrible as we made our way down on the side of the road. Before long we had reached the valley, walked through town, and headed down the road that eventually would reach our farm. Dr. Horrible then decided that it was much faster to cut through the vast fields of corn than to follow the road. Not being old enough to have a say in such things, and generally thinking that this was a fun adventure, whole-heartedly trotted along. Now here I should pause to remind you of the anatomy of the corn plant. Corn grows tall. About six feet talk to be exact, and almost the entire height of the plant grow large wide leaves whose edges are quite sharp. Now imagine Dr. Horrible at six-foot-two weaving his way through row after never ending row of corn, with a four-foot tall child with eyes tightly shut holding on to the back of his shirt, and repeatedly tripping over every root the protruded from the dirt. Lets just say I did lots of tripping, a little falling, and I didn't see an inch of that corn field. To say the least we made it home intact albeit hot, tired, and dusty. Dr. Horrible had mercy on me and did not drag me back with him when he made the trip back to the truck with the gas can, and for this I will forever be grateful.

How I do miss those days of relative simplicity where people walked places, you got to have a fabulous adventure because we couldn't use a cell phone to call for AAA, and were you got to relax after a hard days work. I think I should just go give the older version of Dr. Horrible a hug...awwwwww see maybe he isn't so horrible after all...or is he...