Busting Cherries Of High Cocks – Chapter 2

Published February 15, 2013 by Larry Fisher

“We need someone to pretend to be a grown-up and go into rich people’s homes and act all ‘High-Cock’. We elected you to be that fugazi.” – Manny

I don’t trust people who work sitting down all day. If you spend your day sitting around, what are you going to do when you get home at night? – Manny

 

Bald Headed Richie made the turn around Cypress with his two Granny- Carts filled with vintage and collectible items. He came to Manny’s everyday at 10:30…Antique dealers and Collectors waited for him, and everyday Bald Headed Richie delivered the goods.

For 15 minutes everyday, Richie was famous. He was always surrounded by a dozen people, all screaming at the items he was pulling out of his carts. It was a scene out of Wall Street, with  Brokers raising their hands and screaming, “I’ll give you 15 bucks for that beaded sweater!”

“I’ll give you twenty!”

One morning as he made the turn he saw me and said, “Do you not recognize the chaos of the people you are dealing with?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Manny is going to make you an offer today.”

“That I can’t refuse,” I said laughingly.

“Exactly!”

Joel the Bear came over to us,”Stop fucking around you guys. I got to get what you got, and get going. What you got?”

By 11 a.m. Bald Headed Richie was done selling his wares. How did he get this great stuff every day you may be wondering?

Well, Richie went garbage picking every night.

Bald Headed Richie looked  and acted a little like Ed Koch. He could be loud and brash. He could express his anger verbally and quite often got into arguments with Manny.

Manny and Richie were like  a street urchin Odd Couple together. Richie was the finicky one who believed in cleaning the items he was selling before bringing them to sell…Manny threw boxes of valuable items on the ground, even if it were glass or pottery.

They complained about each other constantly.

Bald Headed Richie was a College Educated man. Thirty years earlier he worked as an Accountant for a major Corporation. Somehow, they fucked him over. He never told me what exactly they did to him.

As a young man who was fired and wrongfully done, he couldn’t sleep nights and began walking the streets of New York at night. He started to find great things being thrown out and he began bringing them home. This made him happy. He got himself a couple of shopping carts and a flash light and for the last thirty years have been walking the streets and finding great treasures in the garbage.

Bald Headed Richie started garbage picking in the Sixties, so he was finding garbage being thrown out from Victorian homes. He would bring his treasures home, and clean them.

I visited his place on a few occasions; he   had lots of Taxidermy of Owls, and other critters. He had full body knight armor, and essentially his place looked like an extension of The Museum of Natural History.

He read the obituaries and when he would find a very old person who died, he would go to their address every night and wait and see if the family began cleaning out the house. If a dumpster showed up, he knew what was coming.

Richie had the best eye for great old things. He had the eye. He told me that I have the eye for this business.

“Listen,” he said.  “Manny is going to ask you to do something. You can do it or not. He is a manipulative guy. Do you see that?”

“Be careful.”

After putting the great old kitchen bowls that I got from Richie in my own shopping cart, Manny called me over to the hole in the wall storefront, he sold out of.

“Come into my office.”

Manny gave himself a birdbath as he spoke. Remember he had no apartment. He lived in a loft space above the three hundred boxes above his small store. I don’t even know if the loft was held in place with wood, or if  the bed he slept on was held in place by the   boxes of crap.

“Something is wrong with Richie. He’s sick.”

Physically sick.”

“No! The guy is a mental deficient. What kind of life does he live? Every night creeping around like a ghoul. Waiting around for families to throw out some crap, so he can go home and polish shit. He is lost.”

“He makes a lot of money.”

“Are you doing this stuff for the money?”

“I like the extra money. I like the stuff. I like the people.”

Manny pointed his finger at me,”You like the people?”

“I like what I’m learning about people.”

“I’m gonna teach you about people. You are going to be the boss. You are going to put an ad in the local paper and the Ad is going to say,’We buy entire contents of homes. No job to big. If you have rubbish, we remove it . We like old things and garbage. We work round the clock, and can get you the most money for what is in your way.’

“Me, how am I going to do that. I don’t have a vehicle, I don’t have a bankroll, I don’t have a place to put garbage. I can’t work round the clock. What are you talking about?”

“You don’t need any of that. All you need is the ad and some balls. You need to get into the house and poke around. If you see really good stuff, you buy it. If you can’t afford it, Cadillac Jack, or Long Island John will front you the money… If it is shit and they want the garbage removed, call me in and I will quote them a price. You are the Ambassador to Junkmen. You are going to get the best stuff, and make money. You are going to meet all kinds of people. Just put the Ad in and dress nice when you go to the place. Don’t dress too nice. Just pretend that you know something. Tell people, you work for your Dad who is an Antique guy, and your Uncle who is a Junkman. Tell them anything to get them to show you the valuables. Pretend you know something for Christ’s sake.”

“Can I end up in jail?”

“Only if you are stupid. I can’t get anyone else to do this because they are stupid. You, you’re a College boy. You’re Jewish, you’re not going to jail because you told people you don’t want to do the job because the truck is broken. You were meant to do this job.”

“Alright Manny. I will put the Ad in the paper.”

We shook hands… When I left the “Office”, Long Island John, Richie the Cop, Cadillac Jack, and a bunch of other guys slapped me on the back and bought me coffee and cake.

I was in. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I was in.

Bald Headed Richie looked angry.

Cadillac Jack said, “Fuck, bald headed Richie. He’s just jealous that Manny asked you to do this job instead of him.”

Long Island John said as he adjusted his wig,”There is something queer about Bald Headed Richie. He’s a little decrepit.

I hoped that Bald Headed Richie wasn’t going to stay mad at me. I enjoyed his company and I loved the crap that I could get from him.

 

My very first job, after placing the Ad in The Ridgewood Times was a doozy. In reflection, I could have been killed, and I would gladly go to it again.

I’ve been on hundreds of jobs since that first one. I have met killers. Real cold hearted criminals, who could have been setting me up. What do I mean?

Well, when you put yourself in the vulnerable position of buying antiques, and saying “Cash Paid on the spot,” people know or think that I am carrying a couple thousand dollars on me at all times. They don’t know the Manny Con game going on, that I’m going to places with fifty bucks, and that if anything  good comes up, I’m calling one of the other boys in to the deal. What is to stop someone from calling, saying they got good stuff and then when I walk through the door, they slit my throat. NOTHING.

I know  guys who have been shot at, beat up, and threatened when they go into a home to buy antiques. It is part of the game.

Anyway, on my very first call from the Ridgewood Times, I heard heavy breathing on the phone, “Heh, heh, heyyy… I got old porno stuff.

I told the guy I’d be right there. The heavy breathing porno guy lived by the McDonald’s on Metropolitan Avenue. (By the way, a mansion was knocked down in order to build that McDonald’s. That area contained some of the oldest Dutch Homes in New York from the seventeen hundreds.)

I get to the place and I am greeted by a middle aged woman who says she is the daughter of the man who called. Her father is in an oxygen tent. (That explains the heavy breathing.)

On their dining room table are hundreds of of horrifying paperbacks.

BESTIALITY PAPERBACKS.

What the fuck did I walk into?! Get me out of here.

I stay cool about the situation even though I am only 23 years old. I mean I had heard of bestiality, but I did not know that there was such a huge reading audience for the material. They weren’t photo books and I never cracked open a book to read its contents.

So, I’ m glancing at the books , the father in the oxygen tent, and the middle aged woman who is flirting with me and I say,”I don’t think they are going to let me sell this in the Flea Market that is in the playground on the weekend.

The lady says,”O.K. we have other stuff. She starts walking around the home and picking up lamps and other items as if we were in Macy’s.

The items are from the 40’s and 50’s and are great. I buy them cheap.

Then the lady says,”My mother has salt and pepper shakers upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” I go upstairs. If I am going to die on my first clean-out job, so be it.”

There was a china cabinet upstairs, in this very large home, I should add, that had all kinds of novelty salt and pepper shakers. Kennedy was salt, his chair was the pepper, the lady sitting on the alligator was salt, the alligator was pepper. I bought the best salt and pepper collection I have ever had, on my first job!

What a score. I was pumped. I bought over a hundred salt and pepper shakers for fifty bucks.

“My son has comics!”

I walk into her son’s room and the walls were covered in photos of women’s asses. Just asses. The rest of the woman was cut out of the picture.

“Your son isn’t here, is he?” I asked nervously.

“No, he doesn’t know I’m selling his collection but he needs the money.”

There were great comics from the sixties and seventies right in front of me. And I had a decision to make. Should I risk a maniac wanting to track me down, or should I walk away from the deal.

Just give me 80 bucks for the comics.

There were at least a thousand comics worth a couple of grand in front of me, “I said sure,” and gulped as I looked at the young man’s walls.

She held up a box as we went back downstairs,”Do you know what this is?”

“No.” I was afraid she was going to tell me.

This is my mother-in-law. We buried her at sea in Florida, and a scuba diver found her and shipped her back to us UPS. I just can’t get rid of this bitch!”

I should have asked,”How did he know who to send it too. Did he know what was in the box, or did he think he was doing you a favor and that you lost your mother-in-law.

I was in shock. I was in too much shock to respond or buy her. She only wanted ten bucks for her mother-in-law, and in reflection, I should have bought her. I would have kept her forever as a memento.

Guys, this story is still not over.

So, then this women all of a sudden gets all serious and says, “You know you are buying all this stuff from me, but my father is angry because he is the one who called you and you haven’t bought anything from him. You should buy his books,” she said demandingly.

I needed to get out of there. I went down and asked how much for the books.

The old man smiled from behind his oxygen tent,”Twenty bucks. And I’ll throw in these photos.”

Oh my God, They were sexual  photos of the lady with a German Shepherd kissing, etcetera.

The woman pointed to the puppy in the window and said,”The old dog is dead but we have a puppy.”

“Do you want to sell the puppy?” I thought about asking in order to save the dog, but realized that the situation was hopeless.

I called for a car service and as I was carrying the stuff out, the lady whacked me in the butt with a bondage paddle, “Do you want to buy this?”

The paddle was autographed extensively. I guess I should have checked out the paddle a little more closely. I had a feeling it might have some famous people’s names on it.

As I left the place, the lady, her father and the puppy all waved goodbye to me from the window which overlooked Grover Cleveland High School.

I never saw or heard from them again, even though the lady said when she whacked me in the butt,”See you soon.”

Most of the books I destroyed. I brought in the photos to show the guys at work, and people, especially management were buying them for a buck a piece as gags.

I kept the photos in my wallet for a while, in order to prove my story. I ended up destroying the photos because I was frightened that if I got in a car crash, the EMT would find the photos and let me die.

And that is not the end but the beginning to the type of crazy stories I have to tell about buying and selling estates

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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