I'm Not Roger Whitley Simmons

by Arthur Davis

About the Author: Arthur Davis is a management consultant who has been quoted in The New York Times and in Crain’s New York Business, taught at The New School and interviewed on New York TV News Channel 1. He was featured in a collection, nominated for a Pushcart Prize, received the 2018 Write Well Award for excellence in short fiction and, twice nominated, received Honorable Mention in The Best American Mystery Stories 2017. Additional background at www.TalesofOurTime.com

Excerpt

I pressed my foot down on the accelerator pedal from the ’59 Chevy. Nothing. I tried again. More nothing.

I don’t discourage easily.

I tapped the accelerator pedal lying on the floor beside my bed, this time with my left big toe. Still more nothing. I purchased the rubber pedal for twenty bucks at the junk yard off Morrison and Rudely. I should have asked them if it would work even if it wasn’t attached to a car.

I should have done a lot of things right.

I picked up the pedal and tossed it in the garbage.

It was 8:15 a.m. The sun was struggling to make an impression on the sweet Iowa morning.

That left forty-five minutes before Hudly Bernard will show up. I don’t owe him money. Never hurt his family. Never suckered him into a fast-time deal and left him standing to solve the problem I created.

Don’t even know the guy.

I finished breakfast. Roasted peanut butter, bacon, and thinly sliced cucumbers on pumpernickel with a relish, chive, and mayo dressing.

I made it to my wicker rocker on the porch next to Jenny’s rocker. She loved to sit out here in the early morning, and especially the evening, and count the flying saucers racing along at blurred speeds. She always spotted them first. An eagle eye with a giant, loving heart.

When Jenny died years back, she took the best of me with her.

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