by Ron Shirley
Copyright © 2010, 2012 by Ronnie Lee Shirley, Jr.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.threeriverspress.com
www.crownpublishing.com
Three Rivers Press and the Tugboat design are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in paperback in the United States in different form by EME Press, East Stroudsburg, PA, in 2010.
The photos appearing herein are courtesy and property of the author.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shirley, Ron.
Lizard tales / Ron Shirley.
p. cm.
1. Shirley, Ron. 2. Collection agents—North Carolina—Lizard Lick—Biography. 3. Conduct of life. 4. Lizard Lick (N.C.)—Social life and customs. I. Title.
HD8039.C6462U674 2012
658.8′8—dc23 2012024541
eISBN: 978-0-385-34727-3
Cover design by Steve Attardo
v3.1
This book is dedicated to my wife, Amy,
and my mother, Judy.
They both taught me that love isn’t love
until you give it away, and that letting go is
the greatest way to hold on.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Ronisms
Introduction
1. This Is a Dog-Eat-Dog World … So Don’t Come Around Wearin’ No Milk-Bone Underwear
2. Letting the Cat Out of the Bag … Is a Whole Lot Easier Than Putting Him Back In
3. Tell Me What You Need … And I’ll Tell You How to Get Along Without It
4. Trains and Trouble
5. Chasing Your Tail Gets You Nowhere Except Back to Where You Started
6. Go for the Ugly Early … And You’ll Never Go Home Alone
7. Don’t Ever Corner Nuthin’ Meaner Than You
8. Whoever Said You Can’t Buy Happiness Must Have Been Dead Broke
9. Don’t Ever Mess with Nuthin’ … That Ain’t Messin’ with You
10. You Always Catch More Flies with Honey Than Vinegar … If You Want to Catch Flies
11. Save Your Breath … You Might Need It to Blow Up Your Next Date
12. Being Big Don’t Make You Bad … No More Than Being Born in an Oven Makes You a Biscuit
13. Don’t Ride a Horse … Till You’ve Checked Under His Saddle
Photo Insert
14. Tighter Than a Frog’s Butt … And That’s Watertight
15. Either Fish or Cut Bait
16. If It’s Got Tires or Testicles … It’s Gonna Give You Trouble
17. It’s Better to Let People Think You’re an Idiot … Than to Open Your Mouth and Remove All Doubt
18. Life’s Always Simpler When You Plow Around the Stumps
19. You’d Rather French Kiss a Rattlesnake …
20. There’s Two Theories About Arguing with a Woman … And Neither One of Them Works
21. If Everything’s Coming Your Way … You’re in the Wrong Lane
22. Rapture Isn’t What You Get When You Lift Something That’s Too Heavy
23. I Married Miss Right … I Just Didn’t Know Her First Name Was “Always”
24. There Ain’t No Sense in Beating a Dead Horse … ’Course, It Can’t Hurt None Neither
25. If I Tell You a Rooster Can Pull a Freight Train … You’d Better Hook ’Im Up
26. Some Days You’re the Pigeon … And Some Days You’re the Statue
27. A Fisherman Is a Jerk on One End of the Line Waiting for a Jerk on the Other
28. Sometimes You Can’t Tell Nobody Nuthin’ … That Ain’t Never Been Nowhere
29. I Used to Have a Handle on Life … But Now It’s Broken
Final Thoughts from an Uncommon Mind
Acknowledgments
Ronisms
Ronosophy
Women & Marriage
Surprise
Unlikely
Hot
Slick
Mouthy
You’re My Kind of People If
You’d Rather
Crazy
Yes
People
Things I’ve Found to Be True
Threats
Country
Useless
Poor
Naïve
Insults
Easy
Afraid
Speed
Ugly
Dumb
Cold
Food
Hard
Enterprising
Pretension
About Ron
Mad
Tough
Happy
Fun
Dumber
Advice
More Ronosophy
Ronnie’s Guide to Living
Leaving
Lying
Uglier
More Advice
Confused
Tight
Nervous
Busy
Redneck Ponderings
Even More Ronosophy
Other Sayin’s
One Last Word
Introduction
I’m an adrenaline junkie. For me, life just ain’t no fun if it’s not fast and furious and full of surprises.
I was a college football player when one day I got struck by lightning and fell off a roof. After a couple weeks in the hospital, I got out to discover that football was gone for me … and with it, my plans for the future. I really didn’t know what to do. I tried working in the office of my brother’s car lot for a while, but I’m just not the kind of guy who can sit behind a desk; it left me as antsy as a bee-stung stallion—that is, until my brother started doin’ his own financing and I started repoing cars for him. I never would’ve guessed that was gonna be the start of a whole new life for me, ultimately as founder and president of Lizard Lick Towing and Recovery—a life that is many things, but never, ever boring! What follows in these pages is a collection of true stories from this always-unpredictable life of mine.
I’m a person who craves mental challenges as much as physical ones. Now, you might not think that the repo business requires a lot of smarts, but I’ll tell you what: it’s all a mental chess game. I find ways to find people, and for me that’s the fun of this business. Of course, the actual finding isn’t always fun—I’ve been stabbed, I’ve had guns pulled on me … you can read about all that in the pages ahead. I gotta say, though, in this process I sure have learned a whole lot. That’s where the “wisdom” part of this book comes from—many a life lesson learned the hard way.
And the funny way. In this business, anybody can be tough. I found a way to separate myself from the rest of the pack by using funny sayings to put people off guard and take control of the situation—maybe letting me get the job done with wit rather than force … and hopefully living to tell about it! When I’m out there repoing a man’s truck and he’s about to bust my head open like a gourd, I might say, “Bo, you look as crazy as a three-eyed dog in a hubcap factory.”
And he loses it! He doesn’t know what to say or what to think—and then I’m in control.
These little secret weapons of mine are what have come to be known as Ronisms. Now, the truth be told, they’re not all mine. My granddaddy used to say some of these things. And my momma used to say some of these things.
Some of these sayings have been around for more than a hundred years—those are the ones I learned growin’ up in the cut, and over time I’ve tried to perfect ’em and make ’em my own. Others are truly original. But original or not, these Ronisms have become something of m
y trademark, and now they’re part of my everyday life. So, naturally, they’re part of all these stories from my life. In between the stories, you’ll find a whole bunch more sayings. Try ’em out yourself … and feel free to adapt ’em and change ’em and make ’em your own—just like I did.
So that’s what this book is: funny sayings and hard-learned lessons from the life of a man on a constant quest for the next adventure. Or, in other words, “The Wit & Wisdom of Ron Shirley.”
I’ve heard it said that a man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do. Well, if that’s true, then I’m proud to be a successful man. And if telling you about it can make you laugh a little, and maybe even learn a little, then I’ll be happier than a raccoon in the corn crib with the dogs tied up to have helped a bit with your success. So kick back, put your feet up, help yourself to some ’shine (if you got it), and enjoy these true stories about the guy they call the Big Lizard—or what I like to call Lizard Tales. Now turn the page and GET LICKED!
1
This Is a Dog-Eat-Dog World … So Don’t Come Around Wearin’ No Milk-Bone Underwear
Momma always told me that if you eat one live toad first thing in the morning when you wake, nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day. I think she was right.
One Saturday morning, me and Jason woke up just before daylight, and it didn’t take us more than fifteen minutes to be bored and looking for something mischievous to get into. Now, many of you have met boys like me and Jason before—but you probably had to pay admission. See, we’ve always been of the understanding that you shouldn’t take life too seriously. Heck, no one gets out alive anyway. So we ventured outside to the shed to see what we could develop or destroy.
Now, Jason never was the brightest crayon in the box. I remember one time he took an IQ test and the results came back negative. But that boy was sure gifted with his hands. He could build or fly most anything I could think up, so I decided, since he was so useful, I’d keep him around. Well, we went to rumbling and somehow ended up with some bottle rockets, an old stuffed toy dog, and a pair of broken roller skates. Jason was talking about making some bottle rocket–propelled skates, but I was more interested in making a skate-propelled dog. I figured we could put some wheels on the mutt, strap the rockets to his hindquarters, get up in the curve on the road, and shoot him across when a car was coming around the bend.
Jason said we’d have a better chance of freezing moonshine in a woodstove than pulling this off without Momma or Pops catching us. But I could sell ketchup to a tomato farmer. And I knew Jason.
“You’d rather drink five gallons of gas and then piss on a forest fire than not go along,” I told him. He quickly agreed and we went to work.
For about two hours, we were busier than a stump full of termites in a flash flood. Then, when Jason attached the last bottle rocket, I knew even Einstein would have been impressed. So we grabbed our new invention, hopped on our bicycles, and headed down the road. We hid the bikes in the tree line and set up our new four-legged friend, whom we named Run Over Rover. Then we waited for our first victim.
Just as we saw a big blue Pontiac top the hill, I lit the fuses and eased Rover to the white line. About the time the car entered the curve, ol’ Rover launched right out in front of it. We heard the brakes lock up. White smoke went rolling. And that car turned sideways right there in the middle of that curve.
Jason was as nervous as a pit bull crapping thumbtacks on a balloon ride, but I was rolling in the ditch laughing like a clown on crack—until I heard the car door slam. I looked up and standing over me was one of the biggest women I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just the fact that she looked mean enough to scare the balls off a low-flying duck; you could tell she was wound up tighter than a minister’s wife’s girdle at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast. She started in on me and Jason about how we could have got that poor dog killed by running him out in the road like that, not to mention that someone could damage their car trying to avoid him. I ran over, picked up Rover, and said, “Calm down, lady. He ain’t even real—see?” And I showed her the fake dog and the wheels, thinking this would calm her down a little. But I could see the fire light up in her eyes and could tell she was getting ready to slap me so hard that when I woke up my clothes would be back in style. So I did what any self-respecting older brother would do: I blamed it on Jason … ’cause I knew he could run faster!
“Lady, I was just out here watching! That guy built it and brought it out here.” As soon as she turned to Jason, I became as scarce as hens’ teeth. Poor ol’ Jason was pinned down by that woman, stuck there like a bumblebee in a bucket of tar.
Now, apart from not being too bright, Jason was also known to have a mouth big enough to stick a hook in. As I ran by, I heard him yelling, “Lady, if I wanted to hear from a butthole, I’d fart!”
Before I knew it he was passing me, running across that field. And when we got to the tree line we stopped, looked back, and saw that lady standing in that curve waving her arms at us and looking meaner than a skillet full of snakes. We couldn’t make out much of what she was saying; but after all the hand gestures, I am pretty sure she figured me and Jason were the reason God gave people their middle finger.
We spent the next few hours lighting bottle rockets, watching cars slide off the road, and running into the woods. We were having more fun than a Texas tornado in a trailer park, but we were getting low on propulsion fuel and needed breakfast, so we figured we would get us one more and call it a day.
As a black truck topped the hill, Jason lit Rover and we got ready to run. About the time the truck hit the curve and Rover hit the line, we had already started laughing, just waiting for the brakes to lock and the white smoke to roll. Instead, I heard that truck motor rev up and kick into passing gear. The driver had floored that mug and was swerving directly toward Rover. Next thing I know, Rover had taken flight and exploded on impact. Pieces of him were flying everywhere. Me and Jason just looked at each other in disbelief, not even realizing the truck had stopped until I heard both doors slam. Right then my rear drew up tighter than a mosquito’s butt in a nosedive, and I looked up to see the same lady from earlier in the day. Only this time, she had brought her husband back—and he wasn’t none too happy.
This ol’ boy looked like he got left in the outhouse when lightning had struck. He reached down and yanked us both up by our earlobes. I don’t know what he was madder about: running over Rover in front of his wife, or the way Jason had spoken to her that morning. But I knew we had to get out of there before he took us to Momma and Pops, and it appeared that was gonna be harder than herding heartless chickens.
Well, he was holding us, and the lady was scolding us like sinners at a prayer meeting, when I noticed Jason sliding the rest of the bottle rockets into the back pocket of that man’s overalls. I looked up at the man and told him, “You’d rather shove a wet noodle up a wildcat’s butt with a hot poker than not let us go.” But he just snatched up on our ears a little harder and told us to pay attention while his wife screamed at us some more.
I watched Jason ease the lighter toward the fuses, and the woman’s voice just seemed to fade away as me and Jason both started laughing. Well, of course, this just aggravated the man that much more. He looked down at me and said, “At what point are you gonna realize that I’m the big dog here and you’re gonna respect my wife and listen to what she’s saying?”
It was about then that those rockets went to screaming and popping and exploding. That guy let go of us and started running around more confused than a five-legged cat trying to cover crap on a marble floor. Jason and I broke free and were outta there faster than a blind dog in a dodgeball game. We looked back and saw the man’s overalls had caught fire and he was on his butt, sliding across the ground, trying to put out the flames.
When we got halfway across the field, we couldn’t run anymore, ’cause we were laughing so hard watching him. He finally got
back to his feet and was hog-tied and pigeon-toed all at the same time. It was obvious he was hotter than the hinges of hell on a Halloween night, and he was yelling for us to come back. He was picking up parts of Run Over Rover and slinging them toward us. I yelled back at him, “Next Saturday—same time, same place. But remember: this is a dog-eat-dog world, so don’t come around here wearin’ no Milk-Bone underwear!”
Me and Jason grabbed our bikes and ducked into the woods, knowing that next Saturday we were definitely sleeping in.
[Ronosophy]
1. It’s hard to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person.
2. If life was fair, the horse would get to ride half the time.
3. There’s a big difference between dancing with the devil … and sleeping with him.
4. Beating a dead horse don’t make it taste any better.
5. No matter how you dress a pig, it’s still a pig.
6. Remember: the Ark was built by amateurs; the Titanic was built by professionals.
7. Men are like bank accounts: if they ain’t got no money, they don’t get much interest.
8. You have to be 10 percent smarter than the equipment you’re driving.
9. Even a blind hog can find an acorn every now and then.
10. Some days you’re the dog that caught the car.
11. You go to hell as fast for lying as you do for stealing chickens.
12. Opinions are like buttholes: some are just louder and smellier than others.
13. A day without sunshine is like … night.
14. A bumblebee is always faster than the tractor you’re driving.
15. If there’s one rat you can see, there’s fifty you can’t.
16. When you plant a tater, you’ll only get a tater.
2
Letting the Cat Out of the Bag … Is a Whole Lot Easier Than Putting Him Back In
When we were coming along, my pops took great pleasure in being more aggravating than an army of jock-itch ants. He was one of the few people I’ve ever met who could drive a wooden Indian out of his mind. He especially got a thrill out of annoying my younger sister, Sandy.