How "Balls" got
the name "Balls." by
real name is Jim Floyd. It seems that in the surfing
world, everybody has some kind of pseudonym and one day
after a hot day of surfing at New Smyrna Beach, Jim,
C.C and "The Miami Chicks" (Stephanie, Jan,
and Monica) visited the park for an after surfing weed
session. Later that evening, on the drive home, C.C.
says "what's that smell?" as the car quickly
began filling up with a thick cloud of smoke. Suddenly,
Jim began pounding his crotch, screaming "my balls
are on fire!" realizing that an ash from his cigarette
had ignited, setting his pants on fire. At that moment "Fireball
Floyd's" handel was established. During the early
1970s, most of the local surfers experimented with various
styles of long hair. One day "Fireball" showed
up at the Creation shop with a straight-cut, banged "Prince
Valiant" hair-do. From that moment on he was referred
to as the "Prince" and "Fireball" was
shortened to "Balls" thus was born "Prince
Balls." Eventually, as his hair grew out, the word "Prince" was
dropped and the name "Balls" stuck with him
ever since. His name however, is no reflection upon his
macho bravado or his sexual exploits. It's just plain
Henry "La Bone"
Bone" Eats C.C.'s S--t! by
north of New Smyrna, it was
a typical early morning at at Bethune Beach.
Capt. Ono, Conrad "C.C. the King," and
some of da brahs went out for an early session
in some pretty nice surf. The night before, C.C.
ate a huge spaghetti and meatball dinner. After
a few minutes in the surf, the remnants of his
evening feast were knocking at his back door.
Suddenly, C.C. disappeared from the line up and
was spotted squatting up in the dunes. Henry "La
Bone" (Ono's dog) often came along with
the crew and patrolled the beach while the guys
surfed. A few minutes later, C.C. appears back
in the line up. Meanwhile Ono spots La Bone heading
into the dunes as he disappears right
where C.C. dropped his spicy load. Ono
decides to paddle in to see what's going on.
As he rounded the mound of white sand, he spotted
La Bone chowing-down on a heaping, pile of C.C.'s
steaming loaf. Evidently, to La Bone's delight,
C.C. didn't bother to bury his pile and La Bone
helped himself to an early morning, Italian-style
Neck, the Grossest Guy on Earth by
Doug "Grossman" Sutherlamd
I met this guy in Folly Beach, who by the way had little
or what appeared to be no neck at all, I had the reputation
as the grossest guy that any of my friends had ever met
or known. Up to this point, I myself was sure of this
honor. My pals even nicknamed me "Morgan Grossman."
I believe it was the summer of 1971. Along with David Mohr, who didn’t
surf, Jack Ono Reilly, Guy (Conrad) Cancellmi, and I, who did surf, set
out on what according to Jack was going to be a bold journey. A “Bold
Journey” was really a sales trip for Jack’s surfboard company
mostly financed by his surfing buddies, but Jack always drove so that was
cool to everyone. We headed up the East Coast of the America to do a little
surfing and experience what the costal towns had to offer. Our first stop
was Daytona Beach Florida, a place we were already familiar with. The water
was filthy with tinny Portuguese Man-O-War jelly fish. While paddling out
a wave broke over me causing a mild sting sensation on the back of my leg,
(a weak Man-O-War sting). My leg cramped all up and I got the shivers for
a couple of hours. This all soon goes away and we are off to north. Next
stop Jacksonville Florida, where we arrive to hit horsefly season. A little
surfing and a few dozen horsefly bites later we are ready to leave the
great State of Florida. After this Conrad Cancell constantly complains
about the wave conditions and the poor quality of the local surfers. According
to Conrad it all sucks, so I have to recite my style of poetry to Cancell
to cheer him up. “So tiny was her giney that I stuck it in her hinny” and
Conrad is in stitches, thus my reputation is kept in tact, after I am the
creator of such film classics as “Wack Me Jack Me” and “Charlie
Chucking." After you leave Florida the strangest thing happens you
are in Georgia. Georgia in the early nineteen seventies in not real accustomed
to men or boy with shoulder length hair. I am asked to drive for a while.
I am still ragged from a drug hang-over from some downers I had taken about
a week earlier. Cancell is giving some shit about my driving, so I flip
out, pull the van over to the side of the road, and jump out long hair
and all in the middle of the Georgia highway, thinking I am going to hitch
hike home. Luckily for me the gang talks me out of going home and I decide
not to drive until my brain chemistry gets back to normal or something
sort of like normal. A few more stops and a little more surfing and we
arrive in Folly Beach South Carolina. We no sooner pull into the parking
lot for the beach and amusement park, than this short stocky guy with a
head that is attached directly to his shoulders comes up to us and asks
if he can borrow one of our extra surfboards. Remember we are on a “Bold
Journey” so we got to have extra surfboard to show Jack’s prospective
distributors. He is granted his request and we are thanked profusely. But
then he makes the most unusual request. He asks if it is alright to take
a piss. Not knowing the terms of this request and thinking he will take
his need to the ocean, we assure him it is fine with us. Then while holding
one of our boards and standing in the middle of this quite busy parking
lot “No Neck” as he has already been ordained starts wetting
his baggies allowing his urine to flow freely down his legs onto the blacktop
to desiccate the image of resort-ville-middle America and to shock the
shit out of all of us. About now I am starting to become a little concerned
about my status as the grossest guy known. Strangely enough this guy had
instantly become our new best friend. So we all do a little surfing before
the sun sets in the West. We come in after a few decent waves, shower off
in the outdoor public showers on the beach, and go to the van to get dressed
for the evening festivities. At this time Folly Beach is a wonderful old
style beach resort town with a boardwalk and adjoining amusement park that
comes with rides and games. So we are up for a little fun and guess who
we run into. You guessed it, the guy who has to rotate his shoulders to
look from side to side. No sooner do we hook up than one of his local female
friends mossies on over to greet, soon to steel my title, Sir No Neck.
Now this chick, as the neck-less one refers to her, is definitely not a
hottie by any stretch of the imagination. She is wearing more than a few
extra pounds and could be referred to as a little mugged (that’s
like being hit with the ugly stick). She immediately informs our new best
friend that there is a guy looking for him. To which he responds, “how
big is his dick” and then he grabs this “chick” by the
arm, turns her in our direction as to make us a presentation of her, and
asks us, “does anyone want to fuck this chick.” At that moment
I was struck with the greatest jolt of enlightenment in my life. I knew
that I wasn’t the grossest human on the planet and that I wasn’t
who I had always imagined myself to be. I was at best the second grossest
person ever, a runner up, a loser, a fake, a second rate imitation, and
a want-to-be “No Neck” and I don’t even have the distinguishing
characteristic of being vertebrae challenged. So in my silent way, I relinquished
my title to a guy I knew only briefly in a place I was in only in once
at a time when I was so much younger. I wonder if the true king of grossness
ever realized his impact and accomplishment.
The moral of the story is, there is not a moral to this story. It is just
a story. It is in there with the “Looking Silly Doug”, “The
Walking Tree’s Wife”, and the “Elevator Jack” Stories.
STORIES COMING... SOMETIME.
with Sharks in NSB.
- Barry "the
S" represents the City of New Smyrna on his
East Coast tour.
Poopsie and the can of beans.
Barry "the S," and Pat Altes, meet the
machete psycho in Rincon, Puerto Rico.
Blood Pact is signed... destination Cape St. Francis,
Weber's lawyer orders Creation to cease and desist.
- David "the
S" and Billy Goodroe score back-to-back at
Clancy's first day on the job.
you have any true stories about your surfing
adventures email them.
Paradise: New Smyrna Beach, Florida
- © SurfCreation