Electric Pepsi

Image by Andrew Fairclough

Image via Andrew Fairclough

Some men are so focused on grand gestures that they forget that it’s the small things that make a woman smile, Penelope thought whilst rummaging through her handbag in a nonchalant, semi distracted way, perhaps looking for a tissue or chewing gum, certainly not wanting to appear overly interested in Ralph’s easy way with the small change, and the way he rolled the coins to and fro across the back of his knuckles like a regular spaceport hunk (more than a regular spaceport hunk come to think of it). After all, no one had ever taken her to the vending machine before, and although she’d been showered in diamonds mined from the moons of Neptune, and shuttled off for exotic holidays in the outer rings of Saturn, sometimes a girl needs a trip to the vending machine to add a bit of excitement to her otherwise drab, predictable life, and the way that Ralph was blowing on the coin as he placed it to the slot (for an extra smooth journey through the inner mechanisms, he said {what a dreamboat}), was getting her so hot and bothered that she needed to wipe the condensation from the visor of her space helmet so she could clearly see the numbers under each of the items for sale.

“D7!” she shouted with joy.

“Item D7 it is, my darling,” Ralph said as he fed the change into the slot, taking care to punch in the correct number so as not to disappoint the one he cherished most dearly.

The vending machine clunked and whirred in the most archaic fashion, and a little man, no more than four inches tall, tumbled from its dispenser and promptly righted himself before waving a tiny pair of pliers and a soldering iron in the air.

“Oh, Ralph!” she exclaimed. “My very own miniature electrician. I’m so happy!”

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