The Wishing Well was a bar by the old Santonies at Perring Parkway and Oakliegh. It was a dump bar, a lot of power drinkers—heavy drinkers, throwing back. Me and this guy were playing pool. He looked like Lorenzo Lamas, from the karate guy, motorcycle TV show. I’m winning. We’re playing for some money and he was getting aggravated. To appease his ego I suppose. I don’t remember the words said, but he was in my face, close and I grabbed him. I turned his shoulder with both open hands. He was close to my size, a good six-one, close to my weight, a good, solid guy. I flanked him, grabbed that pony tail and slung him into the wall. I grabbed that thing [demonstrates right hand grab with thumb and forefinger toward the skull and the tail hanging out of the bottom of the fist] and snapped back and it pulled him into the mirror. The side of his head was bleeding and the mirror was broken in a spider web pattern. For years it stayed there like that, probably glued to the wall.

He had his biker chick with him and she came over to baby him and she had his head buried in her tits and he’s playing it up to get a piece of ass. No reaction from the patrons. People looked, stuff like that was common in there at the time. I played pool with somebody else. I was keeping an eye on him in case there was any retaliation, but he was over there nuzzled up in her tits, “Oh poor baby,” she’s got a napkin to his head. He should have bought me a beer—probably helped him get some.