You're My Sex Bomb 

Flash Fiction 

Ken Preston

20th February 2024

She likes Tom Jones, says he’s retro. But then she wanders around the house singing “Sex Bomb”.

“What’s New Pussycat?”, that’s retro. “Sex Bomb” is just shit.

Me, I’m into Bowie. I suppose you could say some of Bowie’s stuff is retro nowadays. “Ziggy Stardust”, “Space Oddity”. I don’t think of that as retro, that’s classic.

Classic Bowie, that’s what I’m into.

So yeah, you could say we’ve got different tastes in music. Doesn’t stop there though, we’ve got different tastes in everything.

Take television, for example. I love Breaking Bad, she likes Gogglebox.

Or what about books? I love anything by Murakami, she’s just finished reading Ooh, What a Lovely Pair by Ant and Dec.

I’ve got a tattoo, she thinks they’re common.

I drink real ale and whisky. She buys the cheapest bottle of wine she can find on the shelf. Doesn’t matter if it’s red or white.

She loves her burgers and her bacon. Her favourite meal is steak and chips.

Me, I’m vegetarian.

Sometimes I wonder why we ever got together, but then I’m lying in bed watching her get undressed, and I remember.

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