Found high in the mountains and adopted by a group of traveling
gypsies, Slammah Montana's life on earth had begun. Due to what the
gypsies thought was a birthmark in the shape of a pop star, they
started her on a regimen of dancing lessons and energy drinks. During
the first couple years of her training she was ripening into the
precocious little performer they thought she was destined to become.
Little did the gypsies know that inside Slammah was starting to
develop a second personality that the world had yet to see.

On Slammah's thirteenth birthday, while accepting the crown of Little
Miss Big Horn, her cocoon started to crack. It was too subtle for the
crowd to notice but I knew what was to come. First, the sky started
to darken. Then a wind as cold as Hollywood blew in bringing with it
the sound of rolling thunder. And in the blink of an eye, protruding
from the clouds came a city so beautiful it must have been built on
Rock and Roll. Slammah grabbed the microphone and belted out a tune
that would quiet the most raucous riot.

Upon hearing this most heaviest of metal, the makers of the rolling
thunder made their debut. They came gliding down the sky and tied to
their feet looked like the 4 wheeled trailers from her youth. They
scooped Slammah up in arms that could only have been drawn from the
sketchbook of hell and in their wake floated the nomadic bodies of her
past.

It has been a long time since anyone has seen Slammah Montana. Some
think she was punished for singing the words of the devil. Some still
think it was all a dream. If only they knew that it was never a
birthmark at all, but the mark of the Double Crossers….