Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities

Secure with a table fourteen reservation, Kia Ford called upon the Peacock summoning the faithful colorful assistant, the time had come to attend the Holiday Cherry Picking Party presented by Mr. Bourne with the mouth.

“I am looking to bring home nice buckets of cherries,” Kia Ford remarked, “we need them Peacock and our results will be daytime talk friendly fabulous desserts.”

“Kia,” the feather spread promotional figure interrupted, “we are going there to get goals hopefully you will have enough, and we can bring home three points for the spring campaign, not some festive quick tease,”

“I know, I know,” Kia Ford repeated.

“And what is with this white uniform? We are cherry picking, not going to a red-carpet charity dance,” the Peacock calmly reminded, watching the boss lock up.

Surprised, the pair seemed enchanted seeing a holiday decorated field and followed the signs directing them towards square circle arena where the competition was soon to commence. Quickly going through the check-in process, the two picked up a complementary provided ladder and found their assigned tree.

“One who has the most cherry pick by full time wins,” the Peacock read the rules google posted using their search engine.

With the Peacock, acting like a spotter, the dependable fowl held the step-stool apparatus, allowing Kia Ford climbing capabilities. “What is wrong?” The Peacock addressed.

“Do you see any goals around here?”

“Not really but it is only the first half,” the Peacock answered.

“Well, Mr. Bourne does not have any goals, then why would I?”

“Kia Ford, you have goals, you just need to obtain them.” The peacock emphatically stated.

Suddenly, the horn sounded concluding forty-five minutes including stoppage time, and everyone departed the scene, goal less.

“We should get a goal,” Kia Ford mentioned during the cherry juice break.

“I know and your white’s are clean as a Hess truck,” the Peacock pulled a reference from his early publicity days.

Showing their age, they laughed at the Peacock’s observation, “if we get a few buckets of cherries then that would be a victory,” Kia Ford rationalized.

“We need goals!” The Peacock put his foot down.

Things were getting late, and Mr. Bourne handled final inspections, “Hello, Mr. Bourne,” Kia Ford happily greeted.

“I am here to check your bushels,”

Hearing this order, she handed over the filled buckets, “you know Mr. Bourne, there is no goals here and the budget year is closing. “

Not even raising an eyebrow, the wine aristocrat stopped counting and that is when the Peacock caught the technical foul.

“Do I see your hands touch the sacred ball?” The Peacock exclaimed.

“No,” Mr. Bourne retaliated but a review checked confirmed the incident.

“Lets get packing Kia Ford and grab those three points,” the Peacock seized the opportunity.

Assessing the situation and appreciative of what they had, the two tried vacating the premises, “you have no goals,” Kia Ford screamed, “and we have one,” the Peacock added.

“Your not getting away that fast,” Mr. Bourne shouted back and as luck would have it, he launched a long shot achieving a goal, stealing two points back, “we are leveled Kia Ford, how does that feel?”

When the pair got home, with the fourteenth table seating still intact, the concerned Peacock wondered, “what are we going to do now?”

“Invite the beach people,” Kia Ford suggested, “see if they have any goals.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” the Peacock agreed preparing the luring teasing mailers.