The Third Installment of Breaking Dishes


There was another loud crashing sound and Mr. Chambers watched as three members of the police force infiltrated his house, guns ready and precariously hot tempered.


“What the hell is going on here, this is my house!” Confused and frightened Mr. Chambers stood bewildered as he saw the 50 year old oak door kicked off its hinges on the floor like cheap hollow core wood.


Still confused he decided in that moment that the best move was to follow the belligerent officer’s instructions. Kneeling with his hands on his head, he looked up to see the officer who had been shouting and who was most responsible for the vandalism that had occurred. Looking around, he saw pictures of the Chambers’ family, realizing this was in fact Mr. Chambers’ house. “We got a call that there had been a break in and robbery in progress here, that you and your family were being held up.”

“What, no nothing like that is going on here. Everything is okay, who is going to pay for my door?”

“Barry what the f–k is all this?!”


The officer took his attention from Mr. Chambers to spin around with his gun ready, aimed at Joe, Mr. Chambers’ friend who he had called for medical assistance with Kevin. “What exactly do you think you’re doing officer, do you know who you’re pointing that gun at?” Joe responded with one fingering the firearm in his pocket.

“Dr. Matthews? Sorry ‘bout that big man. We got a call that there was a robbery taking place here. What are you doing here?” The officer answered in a cowering. manner.

“Nothing like that is going on here, what the hell did you people do to the man’s f–cking door? You idiots think this CSI Miami where you can walk around kicking people’s doors off? Which one of you do I need to report to the chief for this?”

The three officers stood boyishly, embarrassed by his behavior, the Deputy took blame for his overzealous response. “Barry get up off the damn floor, and the three of you had better leave now.”

“Sorry about that Sir.” The deputy apologized to Mr. Chambers too embarrassed to look him in the face, and too distracted by his shame to see that in clear view of the doorway was Kevin with a pool of blood around him. The sirens went off as the officers filed into their car and retreated from the house.

“Barry what the hell is all this? You lost.. Barry who is that on the floor? Barry, who the hell is that? What is really going on here, is that Kevin? Barry… What the hell is going on here?” Joe rush to Kevin’s side testing for a pulse. Kevin’s heart responded weakly to the pressure being applied by the frantic doctor. “Go in the kitchen and bring me some paper towel! Get me your first aid o for the first aid kit, and some whiskey.”

Mr. Chambers didn’t ask any questions, returning with the items shortly after he knelt beside his friend who had already been trying to recuperate Kevin. “Where’s the whisky?” Joe asked him. “I put it down beside you.” responded Mr. Chambers, almost reverently.

“So where is the glass, fool, you want me to put the bottle of Johnnie to my head?”


Mr. Chambers returned with the glass handing it to Joe. “So I need to pour it myself too? While I’m at it you want me to wipe your ass as well?”


“Give me the suture needle and thread from the first aid kit.” Holding the Glencairn whisky glass in one hand, Joe took thirsty sips of the dark gold liquid, in contrast his working hand was skillfully stopping the spill of the dark red liquid now slowly trickling from the wound above his eyebrow. After fifteen minutes of raspy breathing and emergency home treatment, Joe got up from Kevin.

“He’s going to be okay, he lost too much blood so he’s going to be unconscious for the next few hours. Put him in a bed and get some iron tablets for him as well as Vitamin C, Vitamin B2 and Folic acid supplements. I’m going to have to write a prescription for some antibiotics for him, he isn’t allergic to penicillin so metronidazole should be fine.”

Mr. Chambers moved Kevin to his room upstairs while Joe went to the kitchen to wash the blood from his hand, walking over the broken dishes. Mr. Chambers returned to the living room, walking with an air of relief and defeat. Joe was already in his chair, spilling more Johnnie walker into his glass. “I can’t thank you enough Joe,” Mr. Chambers began, “This has been the craziest night, so much has happened in the past few hours, you have no idea.”

“Well then, how about you give me a detailed idea of what the f–k I just witnessed.”

“I don’t know where to start,” pausing Mr. Chamber felt his BlackBerry vibrating in the pockets of his blood stained grey chinos. “Sorry, I.” Taking the phone from his pocket he saw Beverly’s name flashing across the screen. “Bev?! Hello, who is this and why do you have my wife’s phone.” Joe sat up in the chair, interest peaked by the frantic note in Mr. Chamber’s voice.

Mr. Chamber’s expression morphed from anger, to concern and then to bewilderment. “SHE WHAT?!”

The Attractor.

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