Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities

Coming off getting hammered using alcohol as a tool during the final Craven Cottage festive presentation inside the local pub, the united west ham Kia Ford mustered up a defense combatting not getting three points, explaining being leveled yearning two morning aspirins. Slowly waking self-diagnosed recovered, she recounted, a planned scheduled agenda item, but her aging graceful memory allowed the event to escape for a moment.

With the kitchen as the AM destination, the Peacock appeared, wearing his traditional matinee tuxedo outfit, “oh yeah,” Kia Ford responded, “I have that young girl coming over today, Chelsea is her name.”

Opening the refrigerator, rummaging through the coldness the spirited American could not find any energy, “your shipment of the Carabao in the cup is scheduled next week, Wednesday to be precise, with specific instructions, you are to meet the talent wearing a red dress who is landing on the private Anfield airstrip,” the Peacock informed.

“You ordered the pick me up? How? Internet?”

“Yes,” the Peacock confirmed, “drink a bottle before departing, it will do wonders.”

Changing her mind, Kia Ford disappeared into the bathroom, got dressed then tuned the piano when the doorbell rang.

“Would you get that?” Kia Ford requested, and the Peacock flipped the bubble machine switch before revealing the visitor.

“And may I ask? Who is calling?”

“Chelsea, and I sing the blues,”

“You sing the blues, well come right in,” the Peacock stepped back noting the color scheme, “Madame Kia Ford, Chelsea the blues, the song bird is here to see you.”

Presenting an outstretched arm Kia Ford greeted the guest, “I have just been preparing Ebony and Ivory, so I can hear your talent.”

Following her Chelsea quickly embraced the home setting, “May I ask? Where are you from?”

“I am a Washington National, travelling,” Chelsea answered chewing gum, “what about you?”

“I am from the States too, came here looking for,” Kia Ford paused hearing the Peacock filing nails, “oh yeah, hardware.”

Taking a seat on the bench Kia Ford transitioned, portraying now, a judge character, “what do you want Miss Entertainer?”

“Take Me Out To The Ballgame,” Chelsea requested.

“I thought you proclaimed the blues,” Kia Ford, ego seemed knocked down, floored, taking the elementary lyrical selection suggestion as an insult, “I should be getting a goal for spending this fleeting time and to be honest I am offended with the offside call,” the old glory moving, and shaker mindfully whispered.

“As blue as a cubby in October,” Chelsea clarified.

Finding humor, finally understanding the joke, Kia Ford started laughing and Chelsea belted out the simple lyrics, “that came out very good.”

“I know,” Chelsea smiled, “I do have two goals, I have been working on, learning my ABC’s and being there.”

“Did Jackson get those goals?” Kia Ford historically referenced.

Reality surfaced displaying that this young whipper snapper had two goals and she had nothing, hinting Kia Ford, ‘take a break’. Upon returning, Kia Ford stood frozen watching Chelsea sitting at the keyboard, showing her another goal, making it three.

“That sounded simply irresistible,” Kia Ford added an opinion.

“Especially, if you are addicted to love.”

Soon the session ended, and the Peacock escorted Chelsea to the door, “you should not give up on your dreams,” the American told the away Washington National player.

“Oh, I am not Miss Kia, I am going to the elite table side, now, thanks to you,” Chelsea mentioned.

Soon the English flat went quiet and haunting relegation possibilities swarmed the apartment property, “No, not going to happen,” Kia Ford dispensed any demotion plans, “I need a drink, a healthy energy shot.”

“You have a date with the boys from the band along with the talent in the red dress, they all work like beetles, down at the quarry,” the Peacock checked the appointment book.

“What is next?” Kia Ford wanted more information.

“Then you meet with Brent Ford about getting buzzed,”

“You mean buzz promotion,”

“Yes, honey,” the Peacock gave the star-spangled banner a grin, “you should be getting very buzzy.”