# A Glampus We Suppose - 1750w, violence, mild language



## Pluralized (Sep 22, 2013)

Ulbar Glampus. A horrible name, or so he thought, given to him by his adoptive father. Mr. Glampus loved the boy, but never showed affection until it was too late. Ulbar didn’t have a mean bone in his body, but the influence of his adopted American family had begun to foment evil thoughts in his head during those two years.


He killed everything he loved.


Ulbar grew up poor in the streets of Ürümqi, shivering out the winters in mosque storerooms and behind market stalls, in heaps of cardboard and straw. He’d shat in the filthy corner of the city. He’d been prey to the privations of a hostile city during his younger years which he thought about often and which plagued him a great deal. For a time his memories haunted him, though the change of scenery helped a great deal. Southern California was nothing like the wilds of northern China, although many of the people he met stared at him with the same contempt as the ruddy-faced, aggressive men on the streets of Ürümqi. 


Ulbar didn’t really know how he made it to California. One minute he thought the soiled thoughts of a downtrodden Uyghur, the next minute he’s living in a large house with running water and a soft bed. All he remembered was the frigid morning when he was taken to the hospital and the subsequent week of spotty consciousness. He regained his mind under the pleasant sun of an Orange County afternoon, wondering where he was. He opened his eyes and there was Tom Glampus. Ulbar spoke some English, thanks to his early years at primary school in Xi’an before his mother died. Now, at sixteen, he could carry on a conversation without watching lips. The hard stops and strange vowel sounds of English still sounded like machine-gun fire to his ears, but he was determined to gain fluency.


The drive home from his high school was a slow, thick crawl through the city of Irvine. Honking cars stacked in the impatient heat. Under his seat was the pistol he’d traded his bike for, a beat-up .45 with three rounds in the magazine. “They steal my bike, father,” he said, not looking in Tom’s direction. “Had a month, and now gone. They cut the lock and everything.”


“Well, do you have any idea who would’ve done that? Do you have any enemies at school, son?”


“Not that I can think of. I get along with everybody, except Randy Hodge. And even he wouldn’t steal my bike.” 
Ulbar shifted in his seat and tightened his seatbelt. “It’s got to be somebody I don’t know, because they cut the lock. Randy would’ve just made me give it to him.”


“You know, I think we should talk to the police about this. We can’t just let this go; that bike was expensive.” 

Tom’s jaw muscles clenched and Ulbar noticed how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. They were stopped in traffic again and Tom was growing increasingly bothered. Ulbar’s pulse was speeding, and he felt a clammy sweat breaking across his face. He would destroy the pistol. But would Randy keep his mouth shut about the bike? The police hadn’t entered into his plans, so he’d need to find a way to convince his father not to contact them.
“Father, please let me talk to some people, see if I can figure it out. No sense bothering police with such things.” He trusted the police in America less than the rigid soldiers employed by the Chinese state who’d routinely harassed him all over Ürümqi. 


“Okay, but you need that bike, and I want to know who took it. Keep me posted please.”


Ulbar looked at his father with one eyebrow raised and said nothing.


“Ah, I’m sorry. Keep me posted - it means to let me know what you find out. Sorry.” Tom smiled at him and looked back at the road just in time to screech to a stop behind a pair of taillights. The freeway was jammed as usual, with Disneyland traffic competing with commuters, travelers, and other tourists. “Hope you find out who took it, Ul. I know you really love that bike,” Tom said, sighing once again at the string of cars connecting his bumper to the horizon.


“Randy, it’s Ulbar. Ssh, I can’t talk long. We need to make sure nobody finds out about our trade. My dad’s wondering where my bike is, and when I told him it was stolen he wanted to go to the police.”

Silence on the other end, and a click. Ulbar felt his stomach acid surge and he had to focus with extreme effort not to break down crying. If he didn’t go ahead with the plan, his father might discover his ungratefulness and send him back to Ürümqi. He swallowed and grabbed his backpack off the bed. 


It was time to put an end to scrutiny. 


“Ulbar, why are you awake so late?” Tom Glampus sat up in bed and flicked on the lamp. He reached for his glasses, but before he could put them on, Ulbar pulled the trigger. The spray of blood and brain matter covered half the wall and specks of it got on Ulbar’s face. He turned to Mrs. Glampus and put the last two bullets in her neck and chest. Ulbar was shaking, but felt the buzzing of adrenaline through every surface of his body. The man and woman who’d risked their livelihoods to bring him to the land of too-much were lying there dead and inflamed before him. He felt nothing, save for a mild concern over how they’d treat him in prison. 


Turns out, he wasn’t a full Glampus, after all. They’d booked him a Social Security number, but during the process they never secured his naturalization paperwork. Tom Glampus had never fully filled out his school enrollment forms, yet Ulbar went to almost an entire year of high school. He sat in the Orange County jail for seventeen weeks in solitary confinement. Ulbar lost his sense of time and had to start asking the guards when they would serve the next meal. 


The public defender responsible for representing Ulbar was Bo Rayos. The moment he read the homicide investigator’s criminal incident report, he knew he would have a long-term relationship with the ladies at the DHS and the INS if he continued to represent this young man.


Bo folded open Ulbar’s wallet at the beginning of the week, just after taking the case. He’d been just as calm and quiet as usual, and didn’t expect the young face of this murderer to be so neutral. Bo told himself it would take a long time to shake the young man’s image from his mind. Inside the wallet, there was nothing but one worn piece of paper, stuffed in one of the leather credit card slots made into the flaps of the wallet. Once Bo had the piece of paper out and opened up, he felt a twinge of sorrow that he never allowed to surface at work. It was a document from Ulbar’s adoption, signed by both of the overjoyed American parents. The following afternoon, when Bo tried to find the paper, it was gone. 


This case was going to be a tough one, Bo thought, with the inevitably draining process of defending a minor accused of murder without verifiable citizenship paperwork, something Bo had never taken on.


“Randy, this is attorney Bo Rayos. I wonder if I could bother you for ten minutes of your time?” Bo picked at a food stain on his pants leg, reminding himself to try and get home more often to change and shower.


“Yeah, what do you want?” Randy said, breathing heavily. 


“Tell me what you know about Ulbar Glampus. Be straight with me,” Bo said, thinking about Randy’s father Yorbert, a prominent magistrate in LA County. “Do you know what happened inside his home last January?”
Silence on the other end, then a cough and Randy’s voice, much quieter: “What’s that freak got to do with me?”


Bo chose his words carefully. “I’m trying to figure out what led to the murders. Your number was in Ulbar’s phone, and he apparently called you a number of times in the week before the Glampuses were killed. That’s what Ulbar told me, anyway.”


Randy swallowed audibly. “Do I need to get a lawyer?”


“Why would you assume that?” 


“My dad’s a judge, and I don’t think you know who you’re talking to. If you want to keep your job, forget about me and my friendship with Ulbar. I had nothing to do with the murders, and that’s what I already told the cops.”

Bo felt his throat closing, and realized how deep he could go if he pushed his luck. “You know what, Randy, I apologize for contacting you. Just stay in touch if you find anything out.” He wheeled back over to his desk and pulled the police reports back out. There was no record of any interview with Randy Hodge. 


The next morning when Bo came in, he fumbled with the doorknob for a moment, forcing his key in. Inside his office, the filing cabinets were thrown down and emptied, and all records related to the Glampus case were gone. He called Tony Starks at the precinct, whom he’d worked with throughout the case. To Bo’s astonishment, Tony had no record of any Glampus murders, and acted as if Bo was drunk. “What the heck are you talkin’ about, Bo? You back on the sauce?”


“Tony, please come to my office and see what’s been done here. It’s an absolute wreck, and somebody has taken my files.”


“Oh, okay Bo. You have a good day then, would ya? Let me know if any more of those Ool-bars show up.” He hung up the phone.


Bo tightened up the rope so he couldn’t get his fingers through. He wobbled slightly on the rickety stepstool, and with a crack, gurgled out his last breath through a broken neck. 


Ulbar awoke to the sound of the prayer call, and felt the cold ground sucking out his warmth. Wind whistled around the makeshift bed and for a moment, he wondered why it would be so cold in California. Looking up at the shabby buildings beside him, he realized he’d been dumped back in Ürümqi. Shaking the sleep from his head, he wondered if he’d really ever left.


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## J Anfinson (Sep 22, 2013)

This seems more like an outline than a story. Was that the intention? Sounds like an interesting story, but it feels sort of summarized. If this is to be a novel, I'd start right where it ends and work toward revealing the rest.


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## Pluralized (Sep 22, 2013)

It's intended as a short story, but I totally get what you mean. Big chunks of time blasting by, and some pretty sparse detail. The more I read through it, the dumber the exposition seems. Probably need to spend a week away from this hog and come back to 'er. 

Thanks for reading!


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## BobtailCon (Sep 22, 2013)

I see what what J means, with the story being sparse at some points. But I actually enjoyed it. I thought that the story was interesting enough. Maybe it was just me, but I got jumbled with Bo finding his papers gone, then killing himself? Maybe I missed something.


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## Pluralized (Sep 22, 2013)

Thanks BobtailCon, I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. You didn't miss anything; I just didn't divulge enough about Bo's situation. That is an area that needs expansion. Trying to switch POV as I've never successfully done that before. I wanted to jump out of Ulbar's head and into Bo's, then back into Ulbar's. There's a lot that I could expand with Bo's meltdown and near-insanity over not being able to find a trace of this case he's sure he worked on. 

Thanks for helping me see where I need to focus my energies on this thing. Haven't completed many coherent stories and want to tie this one up. Another 2k ought to do it?


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## J Anfinson (Sep 22, 2013)

I think there needs to be a good reason Bo would feel like killing himself. His case disappearing? I don't think that's enough. Perhaps if he thought it was a better alternative than something else...


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## BobtailCon (Sep 22, 2013)

J Anfinson said:


> I think there needs to be a good reason Bo would feel like killing himself. His case disappearing? I don't think that's enough. Perhaps if he thought it was a better alternative than something else...



Or if he kept contacting Randy, and his father ruined his life (because he is a judge) and made him lose everything. That would be an interesting concept aswell.


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## Pluralized (Sep 23, 2013)

Thanks guys - I'll work on this one a bit more.


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## WechtleinUns (Sep 30, 2013)

Chills are running down my spine. Ulbar Glampus... I'm not sure how I should feel about him. On the one hand, I want to feel empathy for him. I want to feel like he is worth caring for and forgiving. I want to believe that he is worth redemption. That makes it all the more desperate, because he gives no sign of wanting forgiveness. He does not need redemption, and he does not care to be understood.

Which makes it all the more twisted and painful.

Having said that, pluralized, here are a few suggestions. The last paragraph of the story is quite terse and sparse. I'm thinking you could add a bit more to that paragraph to enhance the story overall. Perhaps, you could provide more of a framing of the story as a whole.

The transitions within the story are also break-neck speed. Although, I'm unsure if this is a bad thing. Nevertheless, I'd like to let you know in case you want to consider softening them.

There were also a few details that struck me as just slightly off kilter. Bo isn't likely to have been unnerved by Ulbar's calm demeanor. In court cases like this, it's actually more common for the innocent to be calm. Even when the criminals did do the deed, however, the gravity of the situation usually brings out the inner calm in people, guilty or not.

Having said that, did you intentionally name one of your characters Tony Stark? Iron Man fans might catch that right away. I thought it was funny, in any case.

Like I said, I really enjoyed the story, Pluralized. I also agree that this story could, in theory, be fleshed out and made longer/deeper, but it doesn't necessarily have to be. It is sufficiently complete to stand on its own, particularly on an internet forum like this. If you wanted to publish the story in a magazine of some sort, I'm sure you'd have no trouble adding a bit more meat to its bones.

Depending on which magazine, you may not have to add much at all, in fact. Lovely.


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## thepancreas11 (Mar 21, 2014)

Welp, it's there, but it's skeletal. I agree with J on this one, that there's a good deal missing from what could be a great story. The plot is certainly sophisticated, and the ending really pulls the floor right out from under me, but what it lacks is reason.

I can see how you've come such a long way with your writing. Your recent pieces don't suffer from this particular ailment. If you don't mind me saying, this really mirrors the problems that my own work has, what with the leaving people confused as opposed to intrigued trait. Just like you suggested with me, including a little exposition in the right places could do the trick here. I need a better picture of motivation. I'm not sure exactly why Ulbar killed his parents or why Bo killed himself. Whatever their motivations for ending lives, you need to really play them up. I don't see anything wrong between Ulbar and Mr. Glampus when they're talking in the car, and I never really see Bo having a life-threatening battle with self-esteem until they mention the sauce, about ten paragraphs after he's introduced. The killings in both scenes are really afterthoughts the way they're described here.

That first section about Urumqi and Ulbar could be traded in for an interaction with Tom to show why he's about to murder his adopted parents. You could even have him discussing his past with his father, so that you can keep the full-circle effect.

There's so much potential in this one, Pluralized. Just flesh it out more.


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## A_Jones (Mar 21, 2014)

I am honestly terrified to read this.  I want to, because I loved your submarine one, but your weirding one gave me nightmares (lol congrats I suppose).  Does this have any nasty dead bodies in it?


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## thepancreas11 (Mar 21, 2014)

You'll just have to read to find out, A.


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## A_Jones (Mar 21, 2014)

Okay I read it.  It was very interesting but it's true does seems like we are missing way too much information.  I mean I'm really not sure at all what went on here.  I would have liked to know why he killed them, where the bike went, how is Randy involved.  I think you can throw those things in there and still keep the general confusion feeling you seem to want for your reader.  I also did not feel the desperation of the detective, so I don't understand why he felt the need to kill himself.  

All that being said, you are still, in my opinion, the queen of the thriller on wf!  Your work is so comfortable to read, its as though the words are covered in a grease that allows my eyes to just blaze through.  Thank you!

One big issue I had.  Tony Starks... Tony Stark is Iron Man's name... so the name brought me out of your story with an uncomfortable jolt.


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## Pluralized (Mar 21, 2014)

Hahaha! You guys are awesome. AJ - I'm so thrilled right now, not just because you're the only person who picked up on the Wu-Tang reference (or maybe Iron Man the movie, hoping you've heard Ghostface Killa's Iron Man record - if not, you must), but because you paid me the highest compliment I've ever gotten. Sorry about the nightmares, but that's just about the most incredible compliment to a writer. Thank you!

Appreciate the love on this piece - I know it needs work. I like the city Urumqi - obscure, cold, and Uyghurs are a unique people. The Han are closing in, though.

Queen of thriller! I love it. Thank you.


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## A_Jones (Mar 21, 2014)

Pluralized said:


> AJ - I'm so thrilled right now, not just because you're the only person who picked up on the Wu-Tang reference (or maybe Iron Man the movie, hoping you've heard Ghostface Killa's Iron Man record - if not, you must)
> 
> Queen of thriller! I love it. Thank you.



I read the comic books and watched the movie.  lol I am not a fan of Ghostfaace Killah sorry.  Too much language for me.  (I'm such a pansy)
I was wondering if it was intentional.   

And from what I have seen so far in the week I have been on this site, you certainly deserve the title.  Except for the fact that you are male... sorry your avi throws me off...  King of the Thriller then.


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## scaryclone (Mar 21, 2014)

Brisk read, seems I'm given random details at random times and going: Huh?
But after it's read, it all makes sense. 

It _does_ feel a bit rushed and like something is missing but idk if that's bad, I don't think so.


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## ShadowEyes (Mar 23, 2014)

First off, this reads like a story. What I mean is, I was never pulled out of the story. Everything flows very nicely. Second, it seems more like a transcendent journey than something with purpose. But it's not a lack of purpose; everything seems to be consequential. He ends up in prision; he squanders the love his parents had for him. His friend gets a clean record. However, it doesn't necessarily end for the reader. If you ended it with Ulbar in prison, it would have been a morbid ending, but a fulfilling one. I'm glad you fulfilled all of the promises you made. The story is self-fulfilling, in that his settings never really left him; his nature overcome the nurturing.


Ulbar comes full circle, so to speak. And that's surprising. I suppose this is why I was never confused. I was never expecting any in-depth characterization. And I got to assume things. Things that we're explicit. We get the internal struggle, which seems all the more foreign as we learn how he deals with American life, the English language, and his strange reasonings for buying a gun and killing his adopted parents. I wish we could have known why, but maybe that's best left to the reader's imagination. 


The story is tense, even if we don't see him struggling:  moving to America, dealing with these issues. They already happened. They're still real. They still have weight. The fact that his papers are incomplete leads to his being deported. The fact that he had a gun led to its use. And this draws the story to its conclusion. What this means is that we don't necessarily like the main character, but he's real, and very well drawn.


The story unfolds like a role reversal:  the failed hero, the cheating boon, the dead love, the glorification of power over love which is, honestly, quite prevelant and intensely interesting.

I hope some of this made sense. I hate trying to explain something and have it be unclear, or vague, or left open-ended. That's just how my brain thinks and reacts, which may be why I enjoyed this so much.


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## Pluralized (Mar 23, 2014)

scaryclone - Thanks for reading and commenting here; I really appreciate your time.

ShadowEyes - Great critique. Thanks very much for not only reading it as it was intended to be read, but for picking up on the bits that were intentionally left out. When I finished writing this and ended with Ulbar back on the streets of his home city, back in poverty, unsure whether he'd actually done these horrible things in America or not, I felt compelled to ponder on the opportunities we're all given in this world, however minor, and how seemingly confused and evil our world can be. Even adoptive parents, bringing a poor child in from the third world, are taking them out of their element, inserting them in this cushy, callous thing we have in the West, and who's to say it's for the best? That's what this story is supposed to be about.

There's work to do on it, but I'm really happy you enjoyed it and it connected with you. Let me know if I can reciprocate.


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