Halloween With Junkman Dollar Dick

Published October 30, 2010 by Larry Fisher

As a Junkman, my life has been filled with Halloween stories. They happen all the time:weekly, daily, on the hottest days of the year, on the coldest day.

Let’s start on the coldest day of the year. The coldest day of the year statistically is on my birthday, January 19th. I am a Capricorn, on the cusp with whatever shit is next. Capricorns are cold and stubborn. I am so cold and stubborn that I don’t even believe in Astrology.

When I was a kid I asked my mother for a book on Astronomy, she got me a book on Astrology. I was bummed but I read it anyway… I actually knows what comes after Capricorns, but I was being a smart ass.

Anyway,  I am a hairy man with roots in the stone age, so despite the fact that on New Year’s Eve 1996, when I was attacked by some Gang Initiation in the East Village, the following week, with reports of  a major snow storm, and my arms and head all cut up with stitches from that night, I still went to the flea market at 4 a.m. to buy from Dollar Dick.

Dollar Dick was a sixty year old man who worked on Wall Street as a Broker by day, and then came home, put on old clothes and did clean-out jobs. He loaded two extended Vans and then at 4 in the morning on Saturday sold all the crap for twenty five cents to a dollar. I would buy 8 to ten boxes from him every 4 am to 7am for years. Great stuff worth a grand for under a hundred dollars.

Dollar Dick would go home from the Flea Market with thousands of dollars and wait for the limo to come pick him up and take to Atlantic City where he gambled at the Baccarat tables. He had a comped room and he was a high roller.

He was the Junkman’s James Bond. He spoke five languages. I knew he did because I would hear him talk to all the people at 4 in the morning in their mother tongue. He knew English, Spanish, Russian, French and something else…. The guy really might have had a license to kill.

Anyway, here is  the Halloween story for the week after I was almost killed.

The parking lot at twenty sixth street was covered in ice. The next storm was supposed to be major. Dollar Dick was there with only one truck. I was there, all my stitches felt tight but I was there ready to by Dollar Dick out. I should have just told him to drive the van over to my store and unload it.

The only other person on this Ice Station was a whore looking for a coat. I think Dick went into the van  and found her a fur coat for a buck.

So, Dick was about to unload. I was still the only man there. I was going to score big and then Dick said,”I don’t feel well, I’m going into the van.

I waited outside with the ice forming on my face and the wind blowing.

After 15 minutes I knocked on the Van. I thought Dollar Dick had crapped out on the slot machine of life…

Finally, he came out and said,”I feel so much better now that I took a shit.”

He was in his Van shitting on his porto potty. So, in a matter of speaking he did in fact crap out.

Then the snow started, and Dollar Dick heard that it was going to start to come down hard on the radio when he was inside the truck. He went back home to Jersey,  and I walked that walk of the living Dead as the two feet of snow began to whip the city into submission.

 

I remember thinking,”Hey, it’s not my birthday, and it’s probably going to be the coldest day of the year. Wow!

 

So, maybe this isn’t a traditional Halloween story. You wanted to hear about ghosts, and so next time I will tell you about ghosts.


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