by J. Bradley
Rogue sits bedside in Jello Biafra's hospital room. Past the phantom of dried beer on her face, the hoarseness of Jello's words in her throat, Rogue asks herself why she forgot her gloves that day. The EKG keeps better time than Jello ever could, Rogue wants to say, but never does.
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This was from an impromptu prompt involving two characters and an action. I did this actually aloud before taking what I could remember and creating something more refined from it. It's a smidge fan fictionesque
Love the names. Somehow this sparks a post-Mardi Gras feel for me. *
Piercing but true commentary on The Dead Kennedys frontman.*