Humans Bite Back

The muscles in my father’s neck strained, and the vein above his left temple pulsated as the red color of his face began to turn an alarming shade of purple. I reached over and placed a palm on his shoulder. “Dad, let it go,” I pleaded with him, “It’s just a hat.”

My father must have seen red because he didn’t notice the light change. When our car didn’t move, the vehicle behind us laid on its horn, prompting my father into action. My father hit the gas, and though the convention hall was only a few blocks away, I was given plenty of time to take stock of my past regrets.

I was flushed with relief when my father parked in front of the convention center; I wanted to climb out of the car and kiss the ground so that Luna would know how truly grateful I was to be alive.

We had arrived just as Brian and Bryce were exiting their vehicle. Bryce caught my eye and shot me a pained expression as his gaze shifted to the top of his father’s head. I felt a pang of sympathy for Bryce; I knew exactly how he felt.

Though Brian had been sparse when he decorated the hat, it was nonetheless gaudy. Brian’s hat had a higher peak, and the brim was so broad that it flip-flopped when Brian took a step. Though I wanted to laugh at the hat’s silliness, my father certainly wasn’t in the jousting mood.

“What do you think?” Brian asked, turning his head to display his new hat as my father approached. My father’s eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets when he noted the word “Grandmaster,” written in neat lettering on the side.

“Well, what do you think, Bishop?” Brian turned to me when my father failed to comment. “I thought your dad’s hat was so snazzy that I thought I would like one of my own.”

I didn’t dare pay his hat a compliment because my father’s jaw was already clinched so tight that I feared that he might reduce his teeth to dust.

My father spoke before Bryce’s dad could press me for a response. “I see you have already elected yourself Grandmaster,” my father said, referring to the lettering on Brian’s hat, not noticing the hypocrisy.

“I was actually going to offer my services as acting Grandmaster until one is selected,” Brian informed us. I could see Bryce cringing in embarrassment and moved away from my father, concerned that his head was going to explode.

Thankfully, the bell in the miniature bell tower began to ring, alerting that the meeting was ready to start.

My father and Brian began to fast walk into the building while Bryce and I hung back. “Sorry,” Bryce apologized once his father was out of earshot, “I tried to talk him out of it.”

“No worries,” I assured him, “If your dad is as stubborn as mine, then you’re going to have some trouble wrestling away from him.”

“Why isn’t your dad wearing his hat tonight?” Bryce asked, realizing that my father’s balding head was exposed.

“I hid it from him before the meeting,” I confessed, “I thought it would be a harmless prank.”

Bryce shook his head, “You have terrible timing.”

We were forced to stop because our fathers had attempted to enter the building shoulder to shoulder and had gotten themselves stuck.

It took the other warlocks quite a bit of effort to free them since neither man was willing to allow the other to go before him.

Bryce and I joined the other junior warlocks along the far wall when the doorway was finally cleared. Our other friend Kenny scooted over to make room for us as we crammed into the succession.

Kenny had a slight build, similar to mine, and though we both had longish hair, Kenny was fine with allowing his to hang loose while I used hair products to spike mine. Not only did Kenny and I resemble each other, but we shared the same interest in anime and graphic novels.

Our shared passions were why I favored Kenny over Bryce. I got along well with Bryce, who was naturally good at athletics due to his broad, stocky build; he kept his hair in a buzz cut to discourage excessive sweat and was often outdoors doing some time of woodwork.

Kenny and I had been considered “late bloomers” growing up. When our classmates surpassed us by hitting their benchmarks at the appropriate age, we little guys had to stick together. We eventually hit our growth spurts and caught up, though we both struggled to gain weight.

The three of us were due to turn seventeen this summer, and though we were on the brink of adulthood, Kenny had still not completely cured himself of his acne, and none of us had any clue what we wanted to do with our lives.

Next to Kenny was our other friend Jacob, who was one year younger and stuck out like a sore thumb in his clean button-up dress shirt, creased slacks, and tidy loafers. Jacob was a valuable companion to bring along when we had to venture into the human sector; most humans mistook him for a bible salesman and often steered clear when they saw him coming.

Jacob grinned when he saw that Bryce and I had joined the pack. He leaned over and whispered, “I see that the shit show had gotten off to an early start.”

My father was already in a heated argument with Brian; Jacob watched them for a moment then asked, “Hey, where’s your father’s hat?”

I dropped my face into my hands while Bryce stifled a chuckle. “He hid his dad’s hat from him; no wonder he was so upset when he saw my father wearing his.”

“I just wanted one slightly less humiliating night,” I said, coming to my own defense.

“You can always rely upon my Dad to pick up a dropped torch,” Bryce muttered.

All conversations were silenced when a cracked and ancient voice spoke, “What in the world is going on here?”

An elder warlock named Amos, the last warlock referred to as The Elder Kin, which meant that he had aged well past a century, began to hobble over to discover the cause of all the commotion.

“Do you see what he has done?” my father cried, wagging a finger at Brian’s hat.

“I don’t see the problem; I wasn’t aware that there was a dress code to violate, or else I may have been thrown out for only wearing my boxers to the last meeting,” Amos reasoned.

“He copied my hat,” my father snapped at the elderly wizard, “The Grandmaster hat was my trademark.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had a monopoly on the wearing of ridiculous hats,” Amos said, scratching his beard.

“This is a competition,” my father fumed, “There should be rules against what he’s doing.”

“There is no need to resort to rules,” Amos declared, “We are not animals, though some of you make me wonder…. “We should at least have guidelines,” my father sputtered, “There should be penalties for copycats.”

“Why not ban items that brandish the Grandmaster title?” another warlock intervened, “It seems like false advertising to me,”

“Well, then I have news for you,” my father crossed his arms and smirked, “Brian here was just telling me that he was going to suggest that he act as Grandmaster.”

All eyes shot to Brian, who put his hands up defensively, “I was going to offer that I only act as Grandmaster until one is appointed.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Amos agreed, but before Brian could seize the opportunity, Amos added, “I am the eldest warlock in Silverdale; why don’t I take up the appointment while you youth decide?”

My father smirked as Brian gaped at Amos in disbelief, “That’s not fair, one should be appointed by virtue, not age,” before anyone could come to the elder’s wizard’s defense, Brian pointed at him and said, “He is not fit to act as Grandmaster, the old geezer hardly has a spark left to burn.”

“Don’t be so certain, you ungrateful snot,” Amos bellowed, taking offense. He lifted both his hands and brought his thumb and forefinger together, “Watch me light up the place.”

Brian accepted his challenge, “Give us your best, old-timer,”

The room was divided as warlocks chose a challenger they sided with, but all warlocks now had their fingers prepared, ready to jump in at any moment.

Brian appeared worried when he realized that the majority had shifted to Amos. He must have panicked because he used it to shock Amos instead of demonstrating how powerful his spark was.

Amos yelped when he realized that Brian had singed his beard. It had not been a potent spark, but it didn’t take much to make Amos wrathful, “Well, I guess if you can’t beat them, cheat.”

Amos began to produce a spark in retaliation, but Brian leaned over and blew it out just as he formed a current. This maneuver was met with a chorus of outcries as all the warlocks gathered around Brian, rubbing their thumbs and forefingers together.

“Now hold on, fellas,” Brian protested as he raised his arms to shield himself in anticipation of the backlash, “This is between Amos and me.”

“Looks like your dad’s in trouble,” I told Bryce. Bryce responded with a shrug, “It only serves him right.”

Kenny sniffed the air then recoiled, covering his nose in disgust, “Let’s get the kids out of here; it reeks of burned hair.”

I suddenly took notice of the odor in the room, “I second that,” I said as we all moved along the wall to the exit.

We led the little warlocks to the playground area so they could swing and push each other on the merry-go-round while we waited for our fathers to finish duking it out.

While the younger children climbed the playground equipment, we older warlocks stood off to the side so the children wouldn’t hear us bashing our fathers.

“What a bunch of ding dongs,” Jacob exclaimed with a shake of his head.

“They may be dumb, but there is no need for name-calling; they’re still our parents,” Kenny scolded Jacob.

“You just called them dumb,” Jacob was quick to point out.

“I stated a fact that is different,” Kenny replied.

Jacob opened his mouth, but I intervened before an argument could ensue. “Kenny is right; our fathers are acting dumb, and I agree with Jacob; our dads are a bunch of squishy, crème filled cakes.”

“That’s right,” Jacob spat, “And I hope they shock the bejesus out of one another.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t have a civil debate,” Kenny said, “What is the big deal? Just pick someone to play Grandmaster already and get it over with.”

“It may not be a big deal to you, but it is to them,” Bryce said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the building behind him. “Words have power, and titles earn clout.”

“We need to make a pact,” Kenny announced, “We need to take an oath, swearing that we will be nothing like our fathers.”

Kenny extended his arm, palm down. “I promise never to wear a silly hat,” I promised, clapping my hand over his.

“I will never use my spark to retaliate against you,” Jacob chimed in, adding his hand to the pile.

“I will never try to steal your thunder,” Bryce joined in, capping our hands with his.

We were about to break away when a deafening sound erupted behind us, followed by a flash of bright light, but before I could recover long enough to comprehend what was happening, I felt my feet leave the earth.