The arresting officer-who I had literally known all my life, you know what I mean? This guy lived four doors down from me in a town of less than 400 people. We’ve met. Anyway, at the station, he asks me if I have any aliases. And I was just being a smartass and said, “Yeah, they call me… Tater Salad.” Seventeen years later, I’m handcuffed to a bench with blood coming out my nose, this cop comes up to me and says, “Are you Ron… ‘Tater Salad’ White?”
