The Fan Man by William Kotzwinkle Read Free Book Online

stuck in the seat, man, don’t close that door, here I come, man… . ”
    Charging down the aisle, leaping down the steps, hitting the ground, man, the Knight of the Hot Dog is on his spiritual quest!
    The junkyard, man, stands right alongside the highway, beautifying the state with ten thousand old vehicles piled up, and I am entering it slowly, man, humbled in the presence of all this junk. It exceeds my wildest dreams, man, and I am turning down the lane here into an incredible MOUNTAIN OF JUNK! My dream, man … this is last night’s dream, man, coming true to show me I am on the right path buying a school bus. Look, man, look at the incredibly numerous broken piles of old batteries wheels parts iron heaps altars of stashed crap, man. And ahead of me, standing in the middle of it all, is the owner, man, Mr. Thorne. I’d recognize him anywhere, man, because of the spaced-out look in his eyes. A collector, man, of weird objects–a burly guy standing there, man, looking it all over, in an old busted hat and falling apart trousers. He’s the Pope of Junk, man, look at him, looking around with deep religious feelings moving in his heart, man. I have found my guru.
    “How’s it going, man?”
    “Afternoon.”

    “I called about a school bus.”
    “Here she is over here, near-perfect condition, just needs a little work on the steering box, the ball-joints, and the brake shoes. She squeaks a little when you brake her.”
    “Minor details, man. I can see that it is a road-worthy bus. I have an instinct about such things.”
    “Is that so? Well, over here now, is somethin else you might be interested in. It’s an old air-raid siren.”
    “Man, I am looking for an air-raid siren for years, man!”
    “Got an old minesweeper here alongside it.”
    “Right, man, throw it in the bus, I’ll use it to look for lost wristwatches in my pad … help me lift it in, man.”
    We’re loading the bus, man, with valuable precious objects. I feel like I’ve come to heaven, man. What is that I see lying there on the ground, all rusted-up with handles and bands, a piece of modern sculpture which I can sell to the Whitney Museum. “What’s this here, man?”
    “This is the braking mechanism from an old subway car, an antique you might say.”
    “Give me a hand with it, man, load it in.”
    Man, this school bus is tremendous, man. I can get so many fantastic objects in it, go anywhere, a floating junk pile, man. “What’s this thing lying here on the ground, man, all these poles and pulleys and springs, man."
    “That’s a fabulous piece of machinery, son, belonged to a feller known as the Great Springboard. Just a local boy, got into the big time, toured all over the world. Used to shot hisself a hunnert feet in the air on this thing and come down in a net.”
    “What happened to the cat, man?”
    “Out at the World’s Fair over in New York a few years ago, he sprung up in the air and came down on his head in the parking lot. After the funeral, his mother came out here and sold it to me.”
    “How much do you want for it, man?”
    “I don’t figure on sellin it just yet. I kinda like to come out here now and then and look at it and think about that boy, springin off through the air.”
    “I know how you feel, man. It is obviously a valuable precious content of your junkyard. Well, how much do I owe you for the rest of the stuff, man?”
    “Three hunnert bucks takes it away.”
    “Right, man, here’s a check from the Fourth Street Music Academy … hey, is this your dog, man?”
    “I wouldn’t pet that dog if I were you, son. He smells pretty bad, you’ll have to throw your clothes away if he rubs up against you.”
    “Here, man, come here and give Horse your paw.”
    His paw, man, is encrusted with grime and oil and his coat is covered with burrs and grease and he is the perfect watchdog for my pad, man. “How much you want for this dog, man?”
    “Ten bucks takes him away.”
    “All right, man, here’s a