An Average Tale
23/10/2005

Dirk Strong listened as the opposing speaker worked the crowd with his polished oratory. The man was good, there was no doubt of that. He spoke clearly and with certainty, hammering each of his points home with practical examples and measured gestures. There was passion in his voice yet he did not rant, remaining rational and focused upon his theme, appealing to his audience through common sense and reason. And they were rapt in attention, caught by his logical argument, the heads beginning to nod in approval as telling point followed incisive dissection. Oh, he was good all right.

A wry smile played upon Dirk's craggy features as he realized that he was in the debate of his life. This time he would not be able to rely on his good looks and charm, his magnificent build and an impish wink to win over the ladies. For once his charisma and devastating wit would be insufficient to convince the men. As he watched the crowd for any sign that they might be swayed from his opponent's view, he knew that he needed a miracle if he were to win this one.

The speaker was winding up now, ending his brilliant speech with an appeal to duty and courage, the rightness of his cause and the bright call of patriotism that demanded they vote for the attack upon Slobonia. Applause broke like a storm as he finished, everyone rising to their feet and cheering and clapping their approval of this just and righteous war. The speaker smiled and sat down, confident that his words had found their mark.

Still the applause continued and, in the end, the chairman was forced to rise and beg for silence. Reluctantly the crowd subsided and turned their gaze upon Dirk. "Your turn, Mr Strong," said the chairman as he returned to his seat.

In the quiet that followed, Dirk sat, unmoving at first, then rose and spoke hurriedly. "Excuse me a moment. The bathroom. You understand."

He turned and walked quickly from the stage as a murmur of amusement and laughter filled the hall behind him. A brief word with a sound technician directed him to the bathroom, he found it immediately and entered the nearest cubicle, locking the door in haste. The time had come for desperate measures.

The glasses were in his coat pocket, a swift pat reassured him of that. He took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, in one movement, he took out the glasses and put them on.

A shimmering enveloped him and the world seemed to lose focus for a few seconds. He gasped once as the change came and then it was done. Transformed, he unlocked the door and stepped forth; Averageman to the rescue again!

It was Dirk Strong who returned to the podium, but he was not the same as that tall and imposing figure who had left on such an urgent mission so recently. He seemed smaller, slightly bent in posture, and his crisp suit had become rumpled somehow. That aura of confidence and certainty had vanished, the lop-sided and mischievous grin that had broken a thousand hearts was replaced now with a vague and faintly puzzled look. The audience sensed the change and an expectant hush charged the atmosphere.

Dirk fumbled with his notes, shuffling them as though playing for time. The tension grew. He cleared his throat and then replaced the papers on the table. Turning to face the audience, he began.

"I am just an ordinary Joe."

He paused and shuffled his feet, his nervousness quite apparent. Then, with a quick glance at his opponent, he continued.

"My friend, Walter, who is so much for this war, has made some good points. I salute his eloquence. Like all of you, I hear the strength of his argument and feel the force of his logic."

Once more he paused and ran a hand through his hair, increasing its already tousled appearance.

"But I am just an ordinary Joe. I am 34.4 years old, have sex 1.5 times a week, I have a wife and two kids, and I earn about $36,100 a year. I drink at least 3.3 cups of coffee and 1.2 alcoholic drinks a day. I eat fast food 1.4 times a week, visit a pizza joint three times a month, and consume 245 eggs a year. Chances are that I'll die when I'm 74. I'm just your everyday, ordinary guy."

Here he turned again to look directly at his opponent. He shrugged once and said in an aside that all could hear, "Just an ordinary guy, Walter."

Then he swung round to face the crowd again, a broad grin on his face.

"Yup, an ordinary Joe, that's me. And all I want is to be left in peace. I'll tell you why we shouldn't fight this war. Because we don't feel like it, that's why. Let some other sucker pick up the tab for once."

Averageman shuffled backwards then and sat down, almost missing the chair, so that he flailed for balance briefly before regaining some composure. The hall was as still and silent as a tomb. For a moment Averageman thought that his strange ploy had failed but then a faint whispering began. People turned to comment briefly to their neighbors and the sound began to swell. A moment more and the shouts began: "Hell, yeah, leave us alone. We don't wanna fight. The guy's right. What do we care about Slobonia?"

Dirk smiled to himself, secure now that another debate had gone his way. Averageman to the rescue indeed!

--ooOoo--

This story is not political. Well, it is, but has nothing to do with Iraq, Afghanistan or anywhere else. Its intent is somewhat more basic than that.

Clive

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