The Common Man

The Common Man, by

Guy McCord (AKA Dallas McCord Reynolds) This eBook is for the
use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Common Man
Author: Guy McCord (AKA Dallas McCord Reynolds)
Illustrator: Schelling
Release Date: October 25, 2007 [EBook #23194]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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COMMON MAN ***

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The Common Man
It would, of course, take a trio of Ivory Tower scientists to conceive of
tracking down that statistical entity, the Common Man, and testing out

an idea on him. And only the Ivory Tower type would predict that
egregiously wrongly!
by Guy McCord
Illustrated by Schelling
[Illustration]
Frederick Braun, M.D., Ph.D., various other Ds, pushed his slightly
crooked horn-rims back on his nose and looked up at the two-story
wooden house. There was a small lawn before it, moderately cared for,
and one tree. There was the usual porch furniture, and the house was
going to need painting in another six months or so, but not quite yet.
There was a three-year-old hover car parked at the curb of a make that
anywhere else in the world but America would have been thought
ostentatious in view of the seeming economic status of the householder.
Frederick Braun looked down at the paper in his hand, then up at the
house again. He said to his two companions, "By Caesar, I will admit it
is the most average-looking dwelling I have ever seen."
Patricia O'Gara said impatiently, "Well, do we or don't we?" Her hair
should have been in a pony tail, or bouncing on her shoulders, or at
least in the new Etruscan revival style, not drawn back in its efficient
bun.
Ross Wooley was unhappy. He scratched his fingers back through his
reddish crew cut. "This is going to sound silly."
Patricia said testily, "We've been through all that, Rossie, good
heavens."
"Nothing ventured, nothing ..." Braun let the sentence dribble away as
he stuffed the paper into a coat pocket, which had obviously been used
as a waste receptacle for many a year, and led the way up the cement
walk, his younger companions immediately behind.

He put his finger on the doorbell and cocked his head to one side. There
was no sound from the depths of the house. Dr. Braun muttered, "Bell
out of order."
"It would be," Ross chuckled sourly. "Remember? Average. Here, let
me." He rapped briskly on the wooden door jamb. They stood for a
moment then he knocked again, louder, saying almost as though
hopefully, "Maybe there's nobody home."
"All right, all right, take it easy," a voice growled even as the door
opened.
He was somewhere in his thirties, easygoing of face, brownish of hair,
bluish of eye and moderately good-looking. His posture wasn't the best
and he had a slight tummy but he was a goodish masculine specimen
by Mid-Western standards. He stared out at them, defensive now that it
was obvious they were strangers. Were they selling something, or in
what other manner were they attempting to intrude on his well being?
His eyes went from the older man's thin face, to the football hero heft
of the younger, then to Patricia O'Gara. His eyes went up and down her
figure and became approving in spite of the straight business suit she
affected.
He said, "What could I do for you?"
"Mr. Crowley?" Ross said.
"That's right."
"I'm Ross Wooley and my friends are Patricia O'Gara and Dr. Frederick
Braun. We'd like to talk to you."
"There's nobody sick here."
Patricia said impatiently, "Of course not. Dr. Braun isn't a practicing
medical doctor. We are research biochemists."
"We're scientists," Ross told him, putting it on what he assumed was

the man's level. "There's something on which you could help us."
Crowley took his eyes from the girl and scowled at Ross. "Me?
Scientists? I'm just a country boy, I don't know anything about
science." There was a grudging self-deprecation in his tone.
Patricia took over, a miracle smile overwhelming her air of briskness.
"We'd appreciate the opportunity to discuss it with you."
Dr. Braun added the clincher. "And it might be remunerative."
Crowley opened the door wider. "Well, just so it don't cost me
nothing." He stepped back for them. "Don't mind the place. Kind of
mussed up. Fact is, the wife left me about a week ago and I haven't got
around to getting somebody to come in and kind of clean things up."
He wasn't exaggerating. Patricia O'Gara had no