Creation True Stories

How "Balls" got the name "Balls." by Capt. Ono
Balls' 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 old "Balls.

Henry "La Bone"

Conrad "C.C.the King"
Henry "La Bone" Eats C.C.'s S--t! by Capt. Ono
Just 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 breakfast.

No Neck, the Grossest Guy on Earth by Doug "Grossman" Sutherlamd

Until 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.
  • Surfing with Sharks in NSB.
  • Barry "the S" represents the City of New Smyrna on his East Coast tour.
  • Ono, Poopsie and the can of beans.
  • Ono, Barry "the S," and Pat Altes, meet the machete psycho in Rincon, Puerto Rico.
  • The Blood Pact is signed... destination Cape St. Francis, South Africa.
  • Dewy Weber's lawyer orders Creation to cease and desist.
  • David "the S" and Billy Goodroe score back-to-back at Cocoa Beach.
  • Matt Clancy's first day on the job.

    If you have any true stories about your surfing adventures email them.
Almost Paradise: New Smyrna Beach, Florida
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