Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities

Due to the Peacock’s precious GP Batteries needing an all-American energized bunny, model entrepreneur Kia Ford departed her flat, heading towards a local tourist resort, anticipating spa like treatment.

“It’s Aston’s Villa,” the new world exploring icon remarked about the location selected, “not Astin Villa like the Peacock would say.”

No longer concerned about relegation demotion and being assigned climbing Paramount mountain missions, Kia Ford confidently arrived admiring the luxury housing complex managed by Aston.

Strutting a star-spangled banner attitude, keeping her innocent white uniform clean Kia Ford invaded the park run by the aristocratic, claret wine loving showman.

“Is Aston here?” Kia Ford inquired, approaching the registration desk.

“In fact, he is, just came back from Monaco,” the staffer answered, “try cabin A.”

Following, exchanging pleasant manors Kia Ford ventured over to the residential section, servicing the R&R client. Peacefully situated unpacked suitcases wanting attention, guarded Cabin A’s entrance, preventing any uninvited guests’ travel bags from occupying the scene. Climbing the wooden steps Kia Ford softly tapped the splintering door then respectfully backed off.

“Aston,” she whispered.

“Porsche Man,” a voice responded.

“No, it’s Kia Ford, I replaced Porsche Man as West Ham United, representative,”

“Oh yeah,” Aston recounted finding his second wind, “Kia Ford, yes I do remember, are you here to visit one of my villas?”

“Yes, I am,” Kia Ford smiled.

“Great, you know I was over in Monaco,” Aston politely engaged.

“What were you doing there?” Kia Ford inquired.

“Loitered around had no inspiring goals,”

“No goals, you must have goals in Monaco,” commentated the states woman.

“Just getting some R&R,”

“Rest and Relaxation?”

“No, rock and roll,” Aston grinned, “and Ramsey and Rogers filled that bill, headlining marquee material.”

“Ramsey?”

“Talented young musician,” Aston alerted before spinning tales boasting fantasies whose legends sounded true, “and look at that already I have a goal today.”

“That you do,” Kia Ford diplomatically acknowledged remaining positive.

“Now he was with his friend Rogers,”

“Really, Rogers was offsides, so only one goal,” Kia Ford clearly stated, dropping a hint, “understood.”

Accepting the penalty, Aston continued kicking things around until handing over a cabin key, “here you are in Cabin C.”

Accepting the unlocking token, realizing she had been on the property all day and not getting any goals, Kia Ford chose chilling out as a proper afternoon strategy. Freshening the cot pillow, Kia Ford fell into a placid sleep, welcoming an emerging figure, “Emerson,” she paused, “from the lake and palmer group, I remember promoting you.”

“Was that back when you had goals?” the ghostly aspiration asked.

“I still have goals,” Kia Ford defended, “I sit at the 13th table seat. Ready to make a major move, big announcement.”

“And you are not wasting your time with any other successful obligation distractions,” Emerson noted.

“No, like Aston having to go to Monaco,”

“Right and climb the paramount mountain,”

A few hours passed, Kia Ford woke, stimulated with an electrical shock flowing through her, bringing closure, “Emerson is right I do have a goal.”

Deciding the time had come to leave Kia Ford checked out, “did my credit card pay?”

“Yes, it did,” Aston affirmatively acknowledged.

“Great we are even,” Kia Ford informed, “level, one point for me and you got one.”

“Where are you going? Kia Ford,”

“I am going to see Chelsea,” the stars and stripes waver, flirted, “sing the blues.”

“You think you will get any goals there?” Aston hung the returned key.

“I do not know but a night show on a Monday,” Kia Ford shoulders shrugged, “could raise my table status.”