Meet Thee Glums, goth rockers with a golf course view

THEE GLUMS GET RICH (2018, 125 pages) Buy here in print or ebook.

Thee Glums love horror, but their new contract is a real nightmare.

When teen goth rockers Hector and Bianca Glum sign with big time manager Joyce Juice, they become overnight celebrities, and their struggling father Godfried is out of a job. But after a mall appearance turns into a riot, Thee Glums learn their new success comes with a high price: freedom. Joyce moves the morbid family into an exclusive gated community, for their own protection. Now she’s about to discover, with Thee Glums, there is no such thing as playing it safe.

Parodying scary movies from The Shining to The Sixth Sense, Thee Glums Get Rich is a darkly funny story for young adult fans of thrills, chills, and stage blood spills.

An excerpt:

CHAPTER 8

The next day, one of Joyce’s camera people tagged along as the Glums walked over to check out the clubhouse. Cutting across the golf course, they passed a group of white-haired golfers. Hector addressed them with his snooty accent, “Pardon me, old chums, is this the way to the country club?”

“We have embarked upon an expedition for vestments and frippery,” said Godfried, nose held high.

“Look Lady Bianca, our inspiration,” Hector posed with one of the golfers for a quick selfie.

“I will not wear plaid,” said his sister.

Godfried snapped more pictures of Hector with the golfers, “These people are our muse.”

“Actually, we’re just playing through,” said one, “If you could get off my golf cart.”

“Maybe we should add another E,” said Hector, picking up one of the cups on the dashboard. Ice tinkled inside as he raised it to toast, “Thee-e-E Glums.”

Bianca pulled her brother off the golf cart before he could try the man’s drink, “You guys are more like Thee-e Gooftards.”

“Shhhh!” said Godfried, “Here comes Sir Berryburp.”

Burr pulled his golf cart up next to the Glums and the other golfers.

Hector bowed, “Greetings Lord Burpberry of Liberty Fieldshire.”

“Hi,” said Burr, “Do you Glums need a ride?”

“No, we’re walking,” said Godfried, “Thanks.”

Burr got his well worn copy of the bylaws from the cart’s dash cubby. He opened it to the right page without looking, “Mister Glum, forty-two part B section fifteen specifically states that walking is forbidden on the course.”

“Got to be careful with this grass, huh?” asked Godfried. He stepped onto the paved path, “Better?”

“There are sidewalks for pedestrians along our arterial roads,” said Burr, “And we do have carts available for lease or purchase at the pro shop. Hop in, I’ll give you a ride over there.”

“Can I drive?” asked Hector.

“In the back, son,” Godfried pointed to the rear-facing seat on Burr’s cart.

 

 

“Would you like a tour of the clubhouse?” asked Burr when he pulled up to the valet.

“No,” said Bianca.

“Will you show us where Bill Murray fought the gophers?” asked Hector.

“I learned so much on our first tour,” said Godfried, “That I think I can show them around. What do you think, kids? Should we start with a little clothes shopping?” He waved the credit card Joyce gave him.

Bianca looked at the building, “This place looks like a strip mall got in a fight with wood shingles and lost.”

 

 

In the golf pro shop, the Glums picked out new outfits and went into three changing stalls next to each other. The camera caught them emerging. Godfried was dressed for tennis, Hector resembled a punk-rock golfer, and Bianca was her normal dark self.

“You didn’t change,” said Hector.

Bianca held up the outfit she had tried on. The pants were cute enough, grey faded high-waisted mommy jeans, but, “They don’t have black. Like, none. I think people here are afraid of death.”

Godfried looked around at the other silver haired patrons, “I can get that. How do I look?”

“Those shorts are a little tight,” said Bianca. “You look like you’re in an eighties movie. Something with Chevy Chase.”

“Let’s go look at golf carts,” said Hector, already heading for the door. The camera person followed him.

A salesperson stepped up to Godfried, “We’ll put it on your account, Mister Glum.”

“The clothes?” asked Godfried, “Thanks.”

“Yes, and the low speed vehicle,” said the salesperson, “Take your pick.”

 

 

“Yoo hoo!”

The camera person stopped to catch a wide shot as an older woman leaped the hedges to intercept Godfried, “Hello, hello, hello. Welcome to Lockdown Fields.”

“Hello, I’m Godfried Glum, and this is my son-”

Gracie cut him off by touching his lips, “We know who you are. You’re rock stars.”

“Hi Hector,” said Venus, following behind her grandmother, but circling around the bushes. “Are you guys shopping for golf carts? Want to see my favorite?”

Hector shrugged, but followed her away.

“We have been looking for you all day,” Gracie grabbed Godfried’s hands and held them to her chest as she moved in to kiss both cheeks. Bianca took one look and slunk away to hide behind a huge golf cart truck thing. She could still hear Gracie though, “It’s so exciting to have some new young people here.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Godfried finally broke free of her weird grasp, “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Gracie D,” she said, “I’m her legal guardian.”

“Right,” said Godfried, totally forgetting Venus Demerdez’s name.

“You know Venus, of course,” said Gracie, sensing his discomfort.

“Of course,” said Godfried, thankful for the save.

“Of course,” said Gracie again, by way of reaching for conversation. “So when is your housewarming?”

“Housewarming?” said Godfried, popping another pill, wondering if she noticed, and then looking over his shoulder at the camera.

“Everyone wants to meet you,” the woman went on.

“Housewarming?” he asked.

“You know, finger foods,” Gracie bit her thumb, “Cocktails. Meet the neighbors and realize you will never talk to them again. Everyone who is anyone in L.F. has a housewarming.”

 

 

Hector and Venus looked at the largest golf cart on display, a four-wheel drive model styled after a military vehicle.

“This is my favorite. Isn’t it ridiculous?” asked Venus. “It’s bigger than a car.”

“We want the best,” said Hector, climbing up into the driver’s seat. “This is awesome.”

“This whole place is such a joke,” said Venus, “Did Joyce get you to move here?”

“Are you referring to superstar agent Joyce Juice, of Juice Management?” asked Hector.

“Juice Management blows chunks,” she said.

“Joyce Juice is one of the most successful talent managers in the entertainment industry,” said Hector, not believing he was defending the woman who tricked his father into buying this dump.

“I know,” said Venus, “She’s my agent, too. I hate her.”

They were distracted by Bianca honking the horn of a nearby golf cart.

“This one is electric,” she said, and climbed into the passenger seat of a metallic grey six seater, the closest thing to black on the lot. “Can we go home now?”

 

 

Venus and Gracie watched the Glums pull away in the cart Bianca chose, with the camera person riding in the last row of seats, taping everything.

“They’re kind of stuck up,” said Venus.

“I know, not at all what I expected. Godfried is like, a real zombie,” said Gracie. “They’re having a housewarming tomorrow.”

“Should we even bother?” asked Venus.

“They’re rock stars, they must be cool,” said her grandmother. They headed into the clubhouse, “And of course, they are our next door neighbors. What should we bring?”

Venus smiled, “Maybe they were just putting us on.”

 

 

“This thing has some pickup,” Godfried drove Bianca and Hector home in the new golf cart. “Watch when I touch the gas.”

They were pushed back as he accelerated.

“It’s electric,” said Bianca. “More torque.”

“And zero emissions,” said Hector, “Can I drive?”

“In reality, the electricity probably comes from coal or natural gas, and now some pipeline is leaking into a creek, or a mountain got blown up just so we didn’t have to walk home,” said Bianca from the back seat, causing Godfried to slow down. “So that’s us saving the world with our electric vehicle right there, Hector.”

“Sorry I said anything,” said her brother. He turned to his dad instead, “So what’s the deal with the housewarming party?”

“I should call Joyce,” said Godfried, realizing he had maybe overstepped a little bit by inviting Gracie to tell the neighborhood they were having a party tomorrow.

 

 

“Breath in the positive, breath out the negative,” the guru lead yoga students in a silent meditation at the zen center. Joyce sat at the back of the room, with eyes closed, palms up on her knees, mirroring the guru. “Feel the light, sending vibrations up your spine.”

Joyce felt the vibration of her phone in the hip pocket of her yoga pants. She stood up and tip toed away to answer the call.

Outside, half-naked students lay in the sun, and shot her dirty looks as she spoke on the phone.

“It’s not the best time.”

Looks.

“A housewarming? I’ll text my party planner.”

Crossed arms. Throats clearing.

“Thank you, Godfried.”

She turned and crouched into a fake yoga pose as she texted a quick message to Miss Manners before hiding her contraband phone and going back inside.

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