Spot 037: A Bird in the Hand


by Sandra Davies

Complementary colours. Yellow and purple, my least favourite, and presumably the thinking behind all these municipal crocuses. What she was wearing, my favourite, blue dress and tawny hair, strong and vivid. The other combination I never did much care for and now, seen close too, like even less.
I suppose it was my fault, a misunderstanding on my part. I really did think she fancied me, because she kept appearing wherever I went – pub, gym, at the station and now here in the park. And she certainly looked more fanciable than what I had at home, I can tell you. I’d never heard her speak – that made a difference, the sort of voice they had on them, God knows! because in my experience, although harsh could get on right on your tits, the soft sweet ones were capable of uttering the greatest amount of vitriol.
So, she walks towards me, face to face, I smile, ‘Hi sweetheart, we meet at last!’ and her voice, in reply, was perfectly pleasant. It was what she said that I found harsh, my fault, obviously, for misreading the signals, thinking I was in with a chance.
‘Fuck off pervert – leave me alone!’
‘But … but I thought …’ I grabbed her arm, tried to explain, but she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out not a phone but a knife, three slashes, one push and I was lying on the green grass, contemplating the less than complementary combination of it with red.

See Authors page for Sandra’s bio.



by Paul de Denus

Fresh out of high school, Dickie Wilby married his sweetheart, Rose Gardner. The marriage was cozy and comfortable, fertile ground to begin their life together. Dickie quickly found employment at the local plant and settled in the tool department while Rose stayed home, worked in a garden she loved, and imbedded herself in colorless duties as a housewife. Two years in, their marriage began to wither.

At work, Dickie met Rosemund Hemp, a sales rep for an advertising magazine. Dickie found Rosemund sharper, colorful. He was smitten by her worldliness, her stories of travel and adventure. They secretly met for drinks at the corner bar near work. At home, Dickie seeded the idea they should travel, get out more and see the world. Rose told him she was content, perfectly happy with their growing relationship.

When his relationship with Rosemund eroded, Dickie continued to frequent the bar. He became friends with the bartender, Betty Sawrosi. She was even sharper than Rosemund, her fingernails digging thin rows along his back. The torrid affair lasted six months before drying up and Dickie returned to the simple familiarity of his unswayable wife.

Rose remained rooted and said nothing. Quietly, she prepared a new garden. She was seeing someone too, her divorce lawyer, Stone Ritch. In due time, she would tell Dickie it was over. In due time, her thorny side would show and she would burst Dickie’s thin bubble. For now, she tended to avoid the prick.

See Authors page for Paul’s bio.



by Michael D. Brown

Jack offered Sylvie a lift although it would take him out of his way. After a hard week, all he could think of was getting to his place, taking off his clothes, and kicking back to watch some comedy reruns. He never had anything to do on a Friday night, but planned to get up early next day and hang out at the gym. He hoped the twins would be there for their workout. Annie was larger up front, and Amanda brought up the rear. Together, they were awe inspiring, and he always felt stronger at midday after ogling them from the treadmill. Sylvie was nothing to look at, but she was a hard worker and had helped him finish this week’s project on time. That was why he felt he owed her a ride.
When they stopped at a light, he glanced over and was taken aback noticing the two attractive women in the car next to them. That was no friendly peck on the cheek. They were making out. Sylvie was looking at them, too. As if in unattended reaction, her hand brushed his thigh, and he felt himself stiffen. The two women were gorgeous. Sylvie had her hair tied up in a receptionist’s bun. Almost without thinking, Jack revised his agenda.
“Say, are you doing anything tomorrow,” he asked, “I mean, anything you have to prepare for tonight?”
She turned to him smiling, and he was grateful she didn’t take him to task for having needed prompting.

See Authors page for Michael’s bio.



Illustrations for Spot 037 supplied by Sandra Davies.


3 Comments to “Spot 037: A Bird in the Hand”

  1. Sandra interpreting the word “bird” British style made me laugh, as did her final colour combination. So I was already smiling as I made my merry way through Paul’s story and fell down at his punchline. I’m thinking, this must be comedy night at the MuDSpot corral. On I go to Michael: “Annie was larger up front, and Amanda brought up the rear.” The next thing I know, there’s girls making out in the next car. Blimey! YOu people definitely perked up my Sunday night

  2. Ditto Gita. Delightful, all three. Curvacious, colorful and enviable stories, guys and gal.

  3. The subtle and intricate cleverness of Paul’s triple roses was a real treat with the final line sending me grinning onto Michael’s ever-razor-sharp observation of humanity – that ‘unattended reaction’ said it all, and such a good match to the prompt.

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