Local Legend Part Deux

There are many theories in circulation as to how Dogballs got his name. One version claims that upon the moment of his birth, the Wikopi shaman presiding over the affair stated loudly, “This boy shall heretofore be known as Dogballs.”
“Why Dogballs?” Dogballs’ father asked.
“Because his balls look like my dog’s,” the shaman replied.
The Wikopi are a literal people.
Another version has Dogballs' early vocabulary limited to these two fateful syllables for the first four years of his life. It was the response to every query (“And how old are you, little guy?” “Dogballs!”), the source of every frustration, the proud exaltation of every private joy. Identity is formed in strange ways.
The third theory involves a hot day and three pounds of ground lamb, but I’d like for my blog to retain it’s Family-Friendly rating, so we’ll leave it at that and instead enjoy this nice shot (taken by Dogballs!) of his new stick nestled amongst the poppys.
Either way, Dogballs is an aficionado of The Glide and rips on all kinds of surfcraft, so he deserves his own model (he’s also 5’18” tall, weighs more than me holding a full-grown St. Bernard with a fifty-pound weight in its mouth, and fires a Browning 12 gauge with a shocking absence of safety considerations). This one's 8ft, features a trim-and-shred style bottom contour and rocker, and a bevy of fin options for the tinker-minded schralper.
Glassing, of course, by Leslie Anderson of Fatty Fiberglass.
Speaking of which, rumor has Leslie relocating to a point waaaaay up north, so if you've been holding out on having her glass your next board, better get to it ASAP. Like, now.