THE STORY
Las Vegas, Nevada. The 1970s. Rogue scientists sit in a casino bar arguing over genetic theory and music. Drinks are served. Ideas swirl. Excitement builds. A decision is made. They would attempt not only to prove their most ambitious theories, but to save rock and roll. They would create the world's first genetically engineered rock star.
A concert at the International Hotel provided the first set of DNA: the singer threw a sweat-drenched scarf into the crowd. A chance encounter with the bass player for a hard rock band infamous for their costumes and pyrotechnics gave them a second set of genetic material. The game was afoot. The samples were processed, suspended in a nutritive solution and placed in an incubator. The scientists retired to their homes to nurse their hangovers. Their creation floated and fed on a slurry of liquified pizza and beer. And grew.
12 hours later, their creation kicked his way into the world. The experiment had gone horribly horribly right. Their creation was as normal a child as anyone could hope for under the circumstances but three things gave his creators pause:
1) Less than 24 hours after conception, he was fully-formed and stood three feet tall.
2) He had a shock of black hair that spontaneously arranged itself into muttonchops and a pompadour.
3) His face was a study in black and white: a stark white base with black batwings around his eyes.
The older scientists wondered if they'd birthed a demon. The younger scientists knew better and brought him a guitar. ELVISS Simmons had been born.
THE MAN, THE MYTH, THE…DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THAT SMELL?
ELVISS SIMMONS
Elviss Simmons was born (Hatched? Congealed?) when a pair of drunk junior geneticists spliced together the DNA of Elvis Presley and Gene Simmons. Demon ...err.. Birthmark, white jumpsuit, batwings, 7 feet tall, unstable maniac. The whole package. He is a vile, unkempt, belligerent, drug-addled asshole consummate performer and source of fascination for his several fans.
THE MEMPHIS STRUTTERS
KAT Von Derp
Meow, Meow, Purrrr, Purrrr, Scratch
THE BAND
JJ Camaro (Guitar)
“I don’t want to be here. Court ordered. Elvirra Bader Ginsburg was my legal counsel and somehow, she struck a deal with the judge — placing me in this band rather than prison. I prefer prison.”
Number 2 (Bass)
Well… We needed a bass player… And this dude came with the practice space. He’s an incredibly mediocre player, but he doesn’t say or eat much. We just call him Number 2 as he won’t tell us his name… that and he poops a lot.
Joey (Drums)
Hey, has anyone seen Joey? He was supposed to write his bio for the website. Anyway, when we find him, it’ll go here.
THE HORNS
By the time the horn section realized that Elviss Simmons and the Memphis Strutters was not a hip new jazz-fusion big band, it was too late, and the contract was already signed. They still have not gotten paid.
