Doctors make the worst patients...
When: Thursday, October 16
Where: The clinic
Who: Dr. Horrible and OPEN to anyone who'd have business being there
What: This is a nightmare
Rating: PG?
Confined to a hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen and various monitoring devices, Dr. Horrible had little to do but mull over just what a disastrous series of setbacks this was.
He hadn't been able to get back to his house, but he was certain his lab was ruined. All his projects - he might be able to salvage the completed inventions he'd kept in his safe, when he was able to go back and check, but all the partially-constructed ones were undoubtedly gone. If the house was still livable, he'd be surprised. Even if it was, now people knew where to find him, so he'd have to move anyway. Looking on the so-called 'bright side', he didn't have to worry yet about having no place to live, since he wasn't allowed to leave here.
So he was stuck in this very public place, which presented a whole separate set of problems since too many people knew that 'Dr. Horrible' had been brought here for him to take cover as Billy. But now he was completely out of costume; his jacket had had to be cut off of him and his gloves had vanished with it, along with everything else. His cracked and bloodstained goggles sat on the bedside table - he wasn't sure how they'd gotten there - but he was left with nothing but a highly undignified hospital gown. And a lot of bandages. Maybe the doctored cuts on his face and head and the oxygen mask would keep him from being too readily identifiable. In this situation, he had to cling to whatever hope he could.
Even his evil laugh was denied him, being as the mask was in the way. Any attempts to draw a deep breath were painful, anyway. He'd known what cracked ribs felt like; now he knew what broken ribs with a punctured lung plus a gut wound plus internal chemical burns felt like. At least whatever they'd mixed with the oxygen seemed to be helping with the burns. And the painkillers let him sleep - forced him to, since he really didn't like the idea of being asleep and unguarded in public.
He spent too much time sleeping, he couldn't afford to be damaged and helpless; there was too much he had to do!
Stupid explosion. Stupid earthquake. Not even something he could vow terrible vengeance on. He just had to hurry up and recover so he could proceed with recouping his losses. You couldn't keep a good villain down for long.
Where: The clinic
Who: Dr. Horrible and OPEN to anyone who'd have business being there
What: This is a nightmare
Rating: PG?
Confined to a hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen and various monitoring devices, Dr. Horrible had little to do but mull over just what a disastrous series of setbacks this was.
He hadn't been able to get back to his house, but he was certain his lab was ruined. All his projects - he might be able to salvage the completed inventions he'd kept in his safe, when he was able to go back and check, but all the partially-constructed ones were undoubtedly gone. If the house was still livable, he'd be surprised. Even if it was, now people knew where to find him, so he'd have to move anyway. Looking on the so-called 'bright side', he didn't have to worry yet about having no place to live, since he wasn't allowed to leave here.
So he was stuck in this very public place, which presented a whole separate set of problems since too many people knew that 'Dr. Horrible' had been brought here for him to take cover as Billy. But now he was completely out of costume; his jacket had had to be cut off of him and his gloves had vanished with it, along with everything else. His cracked and bloodstained goggles sat on the bedside table - he wasn't sure how they'd gotten there - but he was left with nothing but a highly undignified hospital gown. And a lot of bandages. Maybe the doctored cuts on his face and head and the oxygen mask would keep him from being too readily identifiable. In this situation, he had to cling to whatever hope he could.
Even his evil laugh was denied him, being as the mask was in the way. Any attempts to draw a deep breath were painful, anyway. He'd known what cracked ribs felt like; now he knew what broken ribs with a punctured lung plus a gut wound plus internal chemical burns felt like. At least whatever they'd mixed with the oxygen seemed to be helping with the burns. And the painkillers let him sleep - forced him to, since he really didn't like the idea of being asleep and unguarded in public.
He spent too much time sleeping, he couldn't afford to be damaged and helpless; there was too much he had to do!
Stupid explosion. Stupid earthquake. Not even something he could vow terrible vengeance on. He just had to hurry up and recover so he could proceed with recouping his losses. You couldn't keep a good villain down for long.