Kia Ford Attending The English Premiere Festivities

Following a long inactive holiday, Kia Ford pondered the future, sitting peacefully in the courtyard. “Do you know why I have a long break?” She asked hearing the Peacock approach, quietly tip toeing into the issue.

“Your semi-retired from shoveling commercialized marketing images,”

“I still work, I still have goals,” Kia Ford star spangled banner attitude snapped back.

“I know you have goals,” the Peacock paused, “but none tonight.”

“Well, its Tuesday,” Kia Ford referenced.

“And tomorrow is Wednesday,” the Peacock added, “what’s your point? When are you going to get goals?”

“Well, I am not going anywhere,” Kia Ford concluded, “just want to rest on my laurels.”

“Mountain climbing can keep you physically fit, you know,” the Peacock perked fluffy colors embellished.

“No!” Kia Ford put her foot down, “I am not going to get relegated.”

“And you are not going to be a champion,” the Peacock surmised, “either.”

“So, what should we do?” Kia Ford wondered.

“Go to the Hamptons and meet with the wolves,” they both agreed at the same time.

Packing up, the pair left the sunset behind, travelling towards the summertime resort area, “I love visiting the Hamptons, during this season, filled with warmth and promise,” Kia Ford remarked as the Peacock filed nails.

“We are visiting the wolves tonight, not taking a day at the beach.”

Soon they both arrived at the Hamptons, noticing enchanting bright yellow outfits the wolves were wearing, “are you sure this is not a day at the beach?” Kia Ford inquired spotting a young fellow maneuvering aimlessly around, “excuse me,” her old behavior just walking up to men and asking them questions returned.

“Are you stranded here from the rest of the pack?” Kia Ford asked.

“No, actually, I am a strand luring being bait for the pack,” the innocent character answered, “I am supposed to get the goals.”

“Oh, you have goals,” Kia Ford seemed intrigued, “and you are?”

“I am sorry, Larson, my name is Larson,” the figure introduced while the Peacock approached.

“You see Peacock not only do we have fighting off relegation a common interest with the wolves but getting goals is a priority for the both of us.”

“Why are you here all alone?” A skeptical Peacock invaded.

“I am not alone,” Larson smiled, observing his faithful entourage surround the United West Ham accompanied by a companion, “typical American, always trying to do the right thing and ending up, no goals and in the middle of.”

“Larson,” Kia Ford started, “is this your goal definition idea?”

“Yup,” Larson grinned, “and with the three points, we are closer, prepared for the table spot overpowering move. “

Seeing the Peacock whisper something into Kia Ford's ear, Larson and the wolves backed off, realizing they did not actually ascend any position.

“The nerve of those wolves,” Kia Ford later complained throwing her hands high in the air, “they thought we would just come to the Hamptons looking for a day at the beach and sacrifice our table spot to them.”

“Well,” the Peacock thought truthfully enticed, dreaming about relegated mountain climbing, “they are pouncing prime.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Kia Ford asked reaching home flat, “who is that?”

“It looks like Mr. Bourne with the mouth,” the Peacock identified.

Scaling a few steps, Kia Ford greeted, “how can I help you?”

“I brought some wine and cherries,” Mr. Bourne declared “you want to celebrate my top ten status?”

“Only if there is three points at the party’s end, for me,” Kia Ford absolutely made clear.