There's been some strange psychological warfare waged between my father and his siblings (and their spouses) for the last five years or so. It all started when my father (always a classy fellow) purchased a Chia© Head for my uncle for Christmas. Now you may think that things would have ended there, but a Chia Head is no ordinary joke gift. It stays with you. Much like the effluence of sprouts that grow on it's corn-rowed ceramic scalp feed on nutritious brown slime, so does the Chia Head feeds on the evil intentions of the mind, sapping any good humor the givee may harbor for the giver. The Chia Head will sit in a closet for months, or maybe even a year before it springs forth. Any holiday is a good excuse for the Passing of the Head.

In fact, this past Christmas my father was looking at a high-probability of receiving head. My youngest uncle has the head in his court, as my other uncle on my dad's side had passed it to him for his birthday. Sure enough, an 8" square package loomed underneath the tree on Christmas morning. My dad tried to avoid looking at it, but everyone knew what was on his mind. The giver's wife made the move and surreptitiously handed him the gift. "Gus, aren't you forgetting to open your present?" Beads of sweat formed on his furrowed brow as he went through the motions of thanking the family, slowly removing the wrapping, and trying to pretend that this was a good-natured joke between brothers. The smiles and laughs were there, but the eyes told the real story. "Take that, bitch," my uncle seemed to be smirking. "Who's got the Chia now, motherfucker?"

My father looked defeated as he retreated to his office space. I followed him and quietly hid behind a mound of newly printed receipts; I watched. As he unlocked his filing cabinet and slowly cracked open the drawer, he did not see ordinary documents. A legion of mindless terra cotta stared back up at him, waiting to be given their orders. As he added the veteran to the top of his mindless ranks, I heard him whisper, "Soon. Soon, my pets. They'll be sorry. Don't you worry your pretty little..."

I couldn't take anymore. This had to be stopped. To be continued...