Black Mundy's life started as a joke, because that's when he was born. The day that his daddy lost his fortune and threw himself out of the penthouse office window. Mommy had to move to the shanty towns with her mother back in Louisiana, ashamed and in mourning, with a screaming baby boy in tow. Black grew up in the swamps, each day his job after school was to trawl the bayous for trash that might be useful, food that might be edible. His mother died of shame when he was 10. His grandfather beat him senseless, his grandmother tried to sell him off to anyone who'd buy him. He started spending his nights away from home, first alone in the swamps, and then as he got older, moving into town. He got trouble of course, the only white male for miles around, and with a name like Black it was even more ironic. But Black fought and battled his way to an inkling of respect and soon did odd jobs for local gangs and dealers, finally earning enough to pay for college tuition and leave the bayou behind forever.