Roger Prince was freezing. He had never been this cold in all his life. In fact, he was cold as a block of ice. Why was Roger Prince so cold? Because he was dead … stone-cold, dead-as-a-doornail D.E.A.D. You see, Roger had a big problem … he could never say “no” … and now because of that he was dead.
Roger Prince was the nicest guy you’d ever meet … the type of guy who’d let you go ahead of him in line. The type of guy who’d help change your flat tire. The type of guy who’d loan you $10. Roger Prince was … well, a prince.
But poor Roger Prince … as nice as he was … was also kind of a sap because he just couldn’t say “no”. If there was such a thing as being too nice, that was Roger … that was his Achilles heel, his weak spot, his fatal flaw.
Temporarily unemployed, Roger tried saving money by moving into the upstairs bedroom of old Mrs. Willoughby’s house in the outskirts of town. A housebound widow with no family, Mrs. Willoughby let Roger stay for practically nothing. Having no tv or phone, her expenses were minimal. Roger helped pay for utilities, maintained the house and brought in what little mail was delivered. He also went to the grocery store to buy Mrs. Willoughby’s staples: peanut butter, bread, instant coffee and a few toiletries.
This particular December morning, a heavy snow started around 2:00. When Roger woke up at 8:00, it was still coming down and showed no sign of stopping. Going into the kitchen for his morning coffee, Roger found none … also no bread.
“Roger, dear” came a feeble voice from the parlor. “Can you run into town for coffee and bread? I forgot to ask you last night.”
“Mrs. Willoughby, have you looked outside? There’s three feet of snow out there!” Seeing her confused and distressed look, Roger couldn’t say no. “Don’t worry. I’ll head into town right now.”
Roger mumbled “Why do we live in the middle of nowhere?!”
Wind-swept snow whirled around Roger’s face as he slowly trudged into town. Suddenly he lost his footing and tumbled down a steep hill, his eyes widening as he slammed head first into a tree. How ironic that his final startled word would be “NOOO!!”
Roger Prince died instantly, the falling snow enveloping his body.
And Mrs. Willoughby waited.
NAR © 2017
The Elephant's Trunk 
Oh nooooo…hehe. That’s an awesome write, Nancy. 👏👏👏
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What a great story. It doesn’t always pay not to say no or set boundaries. Great ending, loved it. 🦋🤗
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Thanks so much, Joni! I guess there is such a thing as been too nice. Look where it got poor Roger! Thanks for taking the time to stop by and leave a comment. I appreciate it!
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That’s a great twist and irony of all ironies !
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You can say that again! Poor Roger; only at the end was he able to say NO!
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I feel for him because his altruism
Was the death of him 😢
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So touching! …he could never say “no” … and now because of that he was dead. Excess of anything is bad. Poor Roger! An excellent story, Nancy!
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This is so very true, KK. I never really thought about it in that light. Thanks for your great comment and perspective!
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You’re more than welcome 😊
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The art of saying No…we do we take that course later than sooner in our lives?
I better go check my coffee supplies ☕
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It took me a long time to learn that lesson, Nick, and I still perfecting it. It’s a process.
As my friend Chris said, this story proves that running out of coffee can be fatal! 😀 ☕️
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I hear ya…same here.
Have a beautiful day, caro mio☀️🌼
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Just proves that running out of coffee could be fatal!
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Oh, you are so right!! ☕️
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Poor Roger. What a way to go!
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Well, he died instantly. At least he didn’t suffer unlike Mrs. Willoughby who was left waiting!
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Good point. Poor Mrs. Willoughby. 😢
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Aww, poor guy. A sad, cold 🥶 end.
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Chilling, isn’t it? Some might say it was his own fault. I, for one, would have wanted for a thaw! 😶🌫️
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Chilling 😍indeed.
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Well, the next time my husband wants coffee and bread, I know what to tell him…
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😂 “NOOO!!” (although I’m sure your pantry is never bare!) 🍞 ☕️
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Rarely!
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