The Middle

The Middle

The Middle, by David Blankenship “You can’t just start in the middle!” he yelled as he stomped both feet in a kind of bent over jump.  “You have to have a beginning.”  He was genuinely mad.  Not the kind of mad where your face turns red and you raise your voice.  He was the kind of mad where they take you off for seventy-two hours and watch you.  And after seventy-two hours they take you to a place surrounded by acres of mowed lawn but you can’t go out and walk on the grounds.  They say, “It’s for your own good” but you know different.  He was that kind of mad. http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/The-Middle.mp3 “Now maybe you just skipped the beginning.  Maybe the pages were stuck?”  He stopped jumping and started coming toward me his, stubby, calloused fingers crawling the air. Speaking slowly and so quietly I needed to lean forward to hear him.  “There was no beginning you fool.  Look at the left hand bottom corner.” I looked and saw the forty-two for the first time.  At least I think it was the first time.  For some reason I don’t remember. I tentatively replied, “I see a forty-two?” “Do you remember forty-one?”  I shook my head.  “What happened on page Thirty-three?” “I don’t know,” I said hoping he wouldn’t explode. “You don’t remember because he never wrote a beginning!” He slowly folded to the ground and giggled.  I usually enjoy it when people giggle but this was a giggle of a different sort. “And what about her?” he asked, pointing to a young lady sitting on the sofa crying silently. ...
The Hitchhiking Chronicles

The Hitchhiking Chronicles

The Hitchhiking Chronicles By Phillip Ghee Gypsy and sometimes Pharmacy Technician The plan was as simple as it was idiotic; make it through Texas on fifty dollars. Sure one could certainly write volumes on what flighty condition of mind, or what lapses in mental programming would move a person to do such a thing. But that wouldn’t be very interesting, now would it? So let’s go right to the action. http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-1.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-2.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-3.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-4.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-5.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-6.mp3 http://wholesomeprose.com/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/HHC-Part-7.mp3 Brownsville, Texas, A Hot Day. For a guy who planned to make it through Texas on fifty dollars, I was accessorized quite nicely. My white rough canvass backpack was quite fashionable and newly off the rack. Inside the backpack was equally new and fashionable clothing, specifically picked for their durability and weather resistant quality. The gear had cost me a pretty penny but, I had traveled across the country by bicycle a few years earlier and knew the significance of proper attire. During the bicycle trip, I had a bank debit card which allowed me to provide for myself quite nicely. Whenever a shopping challenge was placed in my path, I was able to charge the situation with confidence. I had no such card for these hitchhiking chronicles. Still I could not resist a sale and Brownsville, Texas offered one: 3 Hanes white cotton pocketed T-shirts for just ten dollars… I was just two hours into my adventure, already I was ten bucks lighter and making a Bee-line for the nearest McDonalds. It was obvious that this boy was going to have some trouble. So how does this work? It always looks...

Welcome to Our Updated Website!

The former Wholesome Prose website was infected by a computer virus and metaphorically died in the spring of 2013.  Here is our new and better site!