He sweeps into the room like an aging rock star – wavy, shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair, long black and yellow scarf carelessly slung around his neck, a rumpled sports coat under a multicolor leather baseball jacket.

His angular face is always in motion, hands and legs never stop moving, and he talks nonstop, like a Mick Jagger on speed.

He’s Michael Carbonaro, the Comic Book King, and he’s in his element – a big, musty warehouse piled nearly to the ceiling with toys, magazines 25,000 Playboys alone), and, oh yes, comic books.

“I love this,” he shrieks. “Smell that,” he barks, thrusting out a 60-year-old comic book in less-than-mint condition. “I love that scent. It’s the scent of STUFF.”

And there’s plenty of stuff in Mr. Carbonaro’s nondescript warehouse on a nondescript street midway up a hill in North Bergen, N.J.

Countless metal shelves packed with boxes marked “Marvel,” “Disney,” and “Batman” line the inside of the warehouse, going this way and that like a pop-culture maze.

It’s every child’s dream, and Mr. Carbonaro, 46, who grew up in Jackson Heights, Queens, is still a kid at heart.

“I’ve been collecting since I was 4,” he says. “Just this week we bought a million comics. A million! Isn’t that great?”

How exactly do you buy a million comic books?

“I travel all over the country,” Mr. Carbonaro says. “This was actually three separate deals; one in California, one in Dallas, and one in Canada. I’m nuts about this stuff.”

He went to his first comic book show in 1969, and was hooked on the idea of buying and selling. “I’m compulsive,” he says. “I buy everything.”

He kept collecting and selling through high school and as a student at New York University – where he graduated with a degree in business and public administration. He always knew what he wanted to do.

Mr. Carbonaro opened a comic book store shortly before Tim Burton’s “Batman” movie came out in 1989. “It was a smash, and our store was right down the block from a theater showing it,” he says. “I got a zillion Batman T-shirts and kept the store open until after the last showing. We sold them like crazy.”

He also ran a rock ‘and ‘roll amusement park in Manhattan, a combination of Coney Island and Disneyland. “We had a time tunnel that went from Elvis to Johnny Rotten,” he says. “We caught some guy selling pot in the time tunnel. That’s when I knew it was successful.”

A marriage ended in divorce and then, 3 1 / 2 years ago, he started Neat Stuff Collectibles and its companion Web site, neatstuffcollectibles.com, selling everything imaginable – and some things not so imaginable.

“Look at these,” he says, holding up a small pair of “Incredible Hulk” mittens. “Some guy had a thousand of them. He paid 10 cents each. I gave him a buck or so each, and I get $5 to $10, depending on their condition.”

Mr. Carbonaro, who runs a comic book convention that will be at Penn Plaza Pavilion November 19 to 21, finds all his precious “stuff” at shows, flea markets, estate auctions, tiny vintage stores, and in attics and basements.

“I’ve come out of basements all covered black with soot,” he says. “You’d be amazed at what people have.”

A few months ago, he says, he “drove 4,000 miles, flew 12,000 miles, and spent $125,000” in a 10-day period, wrapping up deals in New York, Detroit, and Kansas City.

One secret is his vast knowledge of comic books, dating back more than 40 years.

“Knowledge is power and I know this stuff cold,” he says, rattling off the titles and issue date of comics just by looking at the top left-hand corner.

“This is the first ‘Wonder Woman,’ 1942, worth about $3,000,” he says. “Here’s a ‘Fighting Yank’ issued during World War II. Cost 10 cents then; now it’s worth $25 as is, without a cover and not in great condition.

“I sold an Action no. 1 just before Christmas for $110,000,”he says. “It was graded a 9 on scale of 1 to 10. If it had been a 9.4, it would have been worth close to a million.”

Grading – and price – depends on the character, age of the comic book, and the condition. “Here’s an ‘X-Man’ graded 9.2 and worth $25,000. It’s got rich colors, a tight spine, the corners are straight. But here’s a surface indention. If that wasn’t there, it would be worth $50,000.”

Finally he stops talking, surveys his stuff, and proclaims: “This is American gold. My dream is to have every piece of pop culture ever made. Cool, right?”