Bodhi Flanders

The story of the lost Flanders boy and sightings in the north west...............

Kneedeep wrote:....
I looked up and standing next to me was a pudgy twelve-year-old boy that looked like he just stepped out of 1950s television show.......


What a lovely story Kneedeep!! Unwittingly you may have one of the few leads to solving a north west mystery that rivals the disappearance of DB Cooper. It would appear that you have possibly located the long lost 3rd son of Ned Flanders Homer Simpson's neighbor in the bucolic Eden that is Springfield U.S.A.

This is how it began.........

Matt Groening (back in the day, when he was a struggling 'toonist living low in the highbrow West Hills), having finally sold a strip of cells to a South Korean mega-conglomerate slaveship of animation artists for a soul guzzling amount of money and thus freed himself from ever having to stand in line at the local Starbucks for a mocha-cinno (his fave drink!). Back in those days once you had sold your characters in this fashion, you lost control and direction of their lives and for better or for worse they became the property of a soulless corporation. There to be re-drawn and sent back to the the good ol' U.S.A. in a container ship where they were unloaded in Long Beach Harbor and sold to equally soulless Hollywood financiers who attached their names to the new and improved cartoons before showing them off on upstart television stations across the country.

However I'm jumping ahead too far and you're probably screaming at me right now..... "Gaz!! Enough of the bloody history lesson you old bastard, tell me about the missing 3rd son of Ned Flanders, that's a fascinating tidbit you dropped there!"

I'm getting there mate. just hold on.....

So a forlorn Matt was collecting all the characters he had sold. They were hanging from the shower curtain rod in his basement unit, drying as cells have to after being created (it's an arcane but beautiful process that I cannot explain further, lest the Cartoon Police are reading this and mark me for rendition to a 3rd country for "talks"). As he put them into the large Simpson cell bag he began to weep, just a little at first, but soon a torrent of tears flowed and handling the little flimsy peeps that he had created from the the recesses of his imagination began to be more difficult.

The Flanders familia were the last to be bagged. First Maude, then the two youngest kids Rod and Todd, then Ned. The last character was the oldest boy Bodhi ( the name while an homage to Ned's hippie upbringing didn't fit in with the other two lads as you can see but Sodd had been deemed unacceptable). By now with the sobs wracking his body, and the tears running around the drain like a shower gone wild, Matt lost his fragile grip on Bodhi! With a flutter Bodhi slipped between his fingers and fell to tiled floor, where he spun counter clockwise in the tears and with a little wave of his four fingered hand he flipped the bird to his former master!

Weeping hysterically, Matt ran down to the Willamette River and waited for a little flash of color to emerge from the run-off of the sewer plant. In his hands he held a fishing net with which to scoop Bodhi up and return him to the fold. But alas he was no athlete our young Matt and he flailed uselessly at the water where Bodhi jostled in the currents. Past Linnton, on to Scappoose and then eddying toward Rainer where in the warm effluent of the still functioning Trojan nuclear plant little Bodhi spun violently. Here a strange thing happened, in the dimming light of day little Bodhi began to swell and fill out into the human form of a pre-teenager. While a little pudgy as you described earlier he was no longer locked in the youth of childhood Bodhi dog paddled toward the river bank and climbed out....

Shocked and awed, Matt backed up toward Portland from whence he had come and the last thing he saw before leaving was young Bodhi, wandering in the westbound lanes of Highway 30, muttering snippets of Old Testament scripture and giggling to himself.

We Invent The Wetsuit.

Did I ever tell you kids how Finger and I invented wetsuits? That's right we started the whole Water Temperature Inversion Wearable Ward drobe Suit or a Wiwi suit for short[!], yup I know what you're thinking....that's friggin' juvenile!! I begged Finger to come up with a better name for it but he would just give me a disgusted look and bury his nose back into the Hydrodynamic Thermal Tables that he "borrowed" from the UW up in Seattle. Did I tell you kids that he was self taught when it came to the sciences.....and he was a little insufferable out in the lineup with all his chatter about water volumes and p.s.i. foot pressures. But that is just between you and me, he gets a little pissy when I try to tell him to be more listener friendly if you know what I mean.

This is what he would say to me as I was being rolled by a rogue set, "You shoulda seen that coming, Gazza! Now you're gonna feel 10 tons of water on that empty head of yours and you should be held under for 30 seconds but when you come up you will be 200 yards down the beach and outta the picture so that I can pick a choice wave from the next set!" Unfortunately he was never wrong so I had no come backs for that kind of insulting talk!

Anyway, I digress what the hell was this all about....oh yes the illy named WiWi suit. So we had gotten damned tired of freezing our kibble and bits in the water every day and Finger had seen in one of his publications a navy request for anyone to develop an outfit that could keep their divers warm for extended periods. I knew of an old trapper still working the Willapa River who could stay out in the water longer than anybody else. Hell here was a way to keep warm and make a bunch of money in the process if we could find out his secret...so off we went to find the old bugger.

Sure enough the old coot was waist deep in the river-- forever-- and when he finally came back to the shore he had a whole family of beavers that he had trapped. Did I mention Finger and I had been hitting the bottle pretty hard while we waited?? It has everything to do with how the events subsequently unfolded, and eases the more painful moments that we had to endure.

So Finger and I were staring at this passel [French word for a buttload] of beaver, wondering if our fortunes would change for the better via this strange man and his river dance as he liked to call it. He claimed he could stay in frigid cold water longer than any man alive and he had a secret lining under his clothing. Coyly he refused to show this lining to us until he was through with the riverdance. After a long swig from Finger's whiskey he proceeded to vigorously move his feet kicking and twirling from trap to trap. I thought the drink had gone to Finger's head as he clapped and cheered these crazy gyrations, it was a little fruity for my tastes but hey I'm all for people being comfortable in their own skin!

Anyhow a long time later I came to, I guess the booze had gotten to me. There was a strange sensation around my waist and I screamed like a girl as I came around, Finger and his new friend both wielded huge,sharp needles over me. Barely missing vital organs they were sewing me into a sealskin from head to toe and around the waist they had attached two young beavers in a very suggestive pose!

Needless to say I threatened them both with bodily harm, but it was to no avail as they had trussed me like a chicken, Finger's hand in this betrayal was very apparent and I let him know this was not going to go unavenged. "For the future of surfing you are about to be a hero or.... part of the food chain!" Finger smugly said. "What?" I asked. "This is the suit I have dreamed of Gazza, yours is the prototype!" Whenever Finger threw out fancy words and phrases I knew I was in the crapper!

It was almost dawn as I was launched into the current alongside the jetty, wrapped in this strange outfit. The swell had grown overnight into clean and overhead conditions so like a big dummy I paddled out to the backline thinking that I was pushing humanity forward. "One small paddle for mankind, one small paddle for mankind." I kept chanting as I looked for the outside peak. I'm unselfish and concerned about my fellow peeps that way!

The first thing I noticed when I sat on my board was that all the seals around me split like there was no tomorrow and soon the beavers and I were the only creatures in the water. The fin and the biggest wave of the day appeared at the exact same moment I was enjoying the warmth of the suit and marveling at how accurately named this Wiwi suit was, although I must say it fit like a glove if the body had a glove.

Well that fin belonged to a real badass local we called Whitey and knowing what his intentions were I paddled like hell to get away from him. I must have inspired one of the beavers with my frenzied action 'cos he started slapping the water to get away from the shark too and the only picture that Finger took showed that beaver tail in full flight under my ass on that beauty of a wave.

Finger shot down my alternative name for the suit, you know a bodyglove, I still think it was a mistake, but he never listens to me! Anyway that is how the first suit got made but it took us a long time to figure out a way around Whitey. Maybe I'll share that story a little later!

Toe Surfing The Real Story

Tow Surfing The Real Story.

Kids, you know that feeling when you think that you've seen it all and nothing new has come around for a long time? Well I'd have to agree with you because just the other night I caught a show where people raved about something called tow surfing---sheiit I said to myself, there is something that I was present for at it's very beginnings and I'm getting no credit for it!! Then I instantly felt bad 'cos actually it was Finger who started tow surfing, albeit a little reluctantly and they never mentioned his name either! Maybe I can now reveal the events that led to a cold war incident and a wild ride for Finger.

Things had gotten chilly between Opensores and Finger over the Xmas holidays mostly on account of her godless ways and his need to celebrate the winter solstice pagan style, even back in the day Finger could get all uppity about religious freedoms, in this way I must admit he was ahead of the times. I could piss him off by suggesting that he just go to a church nearby, telling him that one god was pretty much the same as another and he'd yell that I was an ignoramus amongst other things. But I know, I know you want to hear about the first tow surfing adventure which we started, right here, in the crucible of surfdom the PNW. So here goes.

Under the cover of darkness we floated on our boards in a little corner of Gray's harbor waiting for a response to Finger's flashes to the Russian trawler, somewhere out there in the fog. I thought we were a little too close to the jetties but Finger said he had it all worked out and that in a few minutes I would be in the company of the beguiling Wetspot if I were just a little more patient. I have to admit that for a minute he had me there as I drifted around thinking of the forthcoming interrogations she had in store for me. We would often switch roles during these sessions and I know what you are thinking but it was all for world peace, absolutely no other reasons, had I known the Iron Curtain was so rusty and ready to fall I probably would have tempered my enthusiasm just a tad. But like I said it was all for a noble cause and altruistic in every way!

All hell broke loose as the trawler burst out of the fog, with our two lovelies on the fore deck waving furiously at us. Search lights lit up on the beach at the same time and Finger started paddling away from the boat.

" What the hell are you doing?" I yelled after him.

"Get away from the Russians."He yelled back."I told the Coast Guard there was gonna be a drug boat coming in tonight!"

That double crossing rat I thought and then I did something that in retrospect wasn't all that smart. With all the lights and screams of Wetspot I guess I lost my head and I grabbed his leash!

Bullets started flying, mostly from the angry Russians, who quickly knocked out the lights, a net cannoned over the bow and to the cheers of Wetspot we were snagged and quickly hauled aboard!

" I was almost free you bastard!" Finger screamed at me.

"I'll see what I can do for you during my interrogation!" Already thinking of what I could do for my fellow man, but as per usual he was merely ungrateful for my concern.

I won't bore you with details of the next couple of days brutal treatment, but I was really exhausted by the time Wetspot had "grilled" me to her satisfaction! Finally freed from her clutches I went up for a smoke and found Finger on the rail looking at the blinking lights of good old U.S.A. He was still pissed at me but was now deep in some kinda meditation with a group of porpises [ or is it porpi, I can never remember?]. Remember I told you kids that Finger was some kinda mystical type-- a little spooky for my tastes when he does this kind of crap?!

"Don't say a damned thing and I'll get us off this boat!" He whispered. Whoa Mr Touchy and all bent of shape, I thought while gingerly rubbing the nail scratches, whoops I mean, lash welts, on my back!

The seas had gotten huge, a solid 25' swell was running so I reckoned that we could wait the storm out and make a break for it the following day. However Finger all of a sudden threw our boards over the side of the trawler and tossed me over after them! I hit the water and looked up to see Finger in the tight embrace of both Wetspot AND Opensores.

"You S.O.B." I screamed at him, " Leave my comrade alone!"

But he angrily waved me off, and at the last minute he jumped....and this is where it gets wild!

Finger landed feet first on the back of the largest porpise and took off like a bat out of hell! I paddled furiously for the coastline and took a last look at the trawler only to see a small lifeboat hitting the surface and the two figures of Wetspot and Opensores rowing in my direction! Finger came cruising by still standing on that damned porpise although I must say he looked good doing it, he was waving and looked to be in a little bit of pain but I was still pissed at him for for throwing me in the water so I just pretended not to see him.

Much later I was getting closer to the outer harbor with the rowboat close behind. There are few secret spots out here but the harbor has a couple and damn, there was Finger cruising through some of the biggest waves ever ridden, still atop that porpise! He was taking off long before the wave broke, dropping in behind the peak and getting barreled so deep he would completely disappear! In spite of myself I hooted these crazy rides knowing that I could probably ride 'em better if only my board would get me over the lip, but it was too much to paddle into, damn I was bummed.

Finger rode the wave of the day getting a 12 second tube in the process! He passed me still yelling at me so I gave him the finger, hoping that would silence him, but he rode off in the direction of Westport and vanished quickly. Soon Wetspot and Opensores picked me up in the rowboat and promptly asked for asylum. It turned out Opensores was in love with the big lunk Finger and couldn't bear the thought of returning to the U.S.S.R., I gladly gave her directions to Finger's pad!

A day later I wandered by Finger's place and found him on the couch, his foot up in the air with a large bag of ice dripping off it. Did I mention the pleasant smell of cabbage in his abode and Opensores bustling around the kitchen, happy as a clam? Anyway I asked how Finger had hurt his foot and in his response while unbelievable did explain how he had surfed the outer harbor better than any human ever had!

When he had jumped off the trawler and onto the porpoise, his foot had slipped forward on the slick skin and his big toe had gotten locked in the poor creature's blow hole! Spooked the porpoise attempted to dislodge him, first by speeding up, then dropping down steep troughs of ocean swells! Finger had wanted me to grab his arm as he went by and that was why he was waving furiously, how the hell was I to know?

Finally he was taken to the secret spot where the porpoise attempted to remove by riding as deep as it could through the waves. This it had done for an hour before I had paddled up and Finger was exhausted but stoked. He had gotten free when the porpoise attempted to beach itself, only to be pushed back into the water by Greenpeace activists who tried to save it! These same peace nicks then proceeded to beat Finger for molesting the porpoise's blow hole! That porpoise still surfaces around Finger's old house every Xmas, whistling and acting flirtatious around bearded surfers, it's a little creepy if you ask me!

That kids is how TOE surfing got started, that's the real deal, no bullshit! Once again we got none of the press but we started it or at least Finger did but he never wanted to repeat it for some reason? Spread the word!