It all started in Camden, 1983 (what a year!). Little Bo Peep was watching her sheep when Peaches, one of the furriest ones, waltzed into a small puddle of radioactive waste from the nearby steel mill. The sheep keeled over. I began to suck in air, inflating like a beach ball at a Creed concert, until the sheep’s flesh was paper thin, nearly transparent now. With a loud pop, the sheep exploded, its innards scattered all across the street corner. Protected inside the ribcage was Lil Bell Pepp curled up in the fetal position with a bucket. She arose from the soggy mire with the two of Peaches legs and proceeded to lay out the meatiest, steamiest solo ever to grace the ears of all around her.
She seemed to grab the attention of the local wise man, who urged her to follow her destiny to Medford, Massachusetts, the widely recognized trash drumming capital of the Eastern Seaboard, to fuse with the group known as Beats.
Now the only issue was transportation. Thankfully, Tortás, the cool mom, baked a hot pie. It smelled so pungent, the scent lifted Bell Pepp off of her feet all the way to Tufts University. By the time Bell Pepp arrived she had been floating and drumming for 18 years. She was a veritable Mecha-Pepp. Nothing could stop her from becoming the greatest trash drummer of all time.