Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production

After finding the hidden key inside the secret location, Hammer girl Kia Ford slowly opened the door, revealing a darken hallway, with an illumination signaling life indoors.

Dragging her baggage, the all-American mover and shaker, returned from across the pond business transactions, and lurked through the passageway, peaking, investigating the unknown territory.

“Peacock!!” Kia Ford, seeing the promotional fowl outstretched on the couch, drowning underneath Community Sheild merchandise.

“Just resting my bones, from my research,”

“Research?” Kia Ford questioned, “what research?”

“Checking out the mountain climbing equipment for,”

“Getting goals,” Kia Ford insisted, retreating towards the kitchen, “what is this?”

“Letter from the landlord,” the Peacock informed.

Using a fingernail, detaching the correspondence as it left the envelope, “let me see here,” she curiously started reading, “due to the successful time on the other side of the pond your flat apartment slot located in the English Premiere Estates is complementary reserved until next June.”

“Great,” Kia Ford smiled, “whose Boyle Sports?”

“The new landlord,” Peacock declared.

“He signed the letter, BS,”

“That’s Boyle for you.”

Finally, the weekend arrived, and Kia Ford retrieved the newspaper from the stoop. Turning towards the sports pages the entertaining American talent saw her societal standings.

“I am in the relegation zone!” Gasped the colonist.

Seconds later, the Peacock reviewed the contents, “everything is in alphabetical order, you are a westerner,” the creative creature paused, “and united”.

“Yes, so,”

“Kia Ford,” the Peacock continued, “you do not reside at Aston’s Villa, and you do not have an Arsenal.”

“I guess you are right,” Kia Ford accepted reality, “what should we do today?”

“Since you need goals,” the Peacock suggested, “why don’t we visit the stadium of light, they may have exactly what you need.”

“Where is that?”

“Back from the beyond,” the Peacock noted, “and I hear they are acting like foxes.”

“Where are those foxes?” Kia Ford innocently asked.

“They are climbing their Paramount Mountain, enjoying the great fresh air,” the Peacock updated, “but while I was at the community shield, got thinking, gold would look nice on you.”

Taking the hint Kia Ford went back to the bedroom, then emerged wearing sunshining shorts and a black top.

“You look like a black cat,” the Peacock interpreted, “it may work obtaining goals.”

“I think I will fit right in.”

A few hours later the pair sauntered down to the mecca where they would find goal guidance and build a nice padding to start their campaign. Upon entering the establishment, a gigantic Knightly Dragon greeted them, “are you ready for a Wolf competition?” The armored character asked.

“Actually, we are here to find goals,” Kia Ford told him, “And your facility will shine radiant truths on the matter.”

“Yes, we will,” the Knightly Dragon confirmed.

Once through the gates, the Peacock followed Kia Ford, both confronting red and white positive attitudes. “They sure do not look like they have been playing second fiddle,”

“Sunderland climbed the Paramount Mountain and here they are,” the Peacock reported.

Forty-five minutes passed, nobody registered a goal sending Kia Ford a message ‘this was the match where a nice table placing would be granted’.

“Kia Ford,” the Peacock whispered, “you have no goals.”

“We will get some and the three points,”

Acting like a feline with nine lives Samson and Deliah terrified the All-American star-spangled banner, spearing three lightning bolts, ignoring the sunny day setting.

“Peacock, where did they get these three goals?”

“They say it came from the stadium of light,”

“But”

Deciding the two friendly mascots were prepared with successful plans, Kia Ford and the Peacock decided to go home, goal less.

Battered, bruised, securing refuge, and planning culinary area table strategy, studying honest factual statistics, realizing hard to swallow results, Kia Ford mentioned, “we are now officially in the relegation zone.”

“Three goals in the hole,” the Peacock displayed a poker face, “so what do you think we should do?”

“Call Chelsea to come over and sing the blues,” Kia Ford advised.

“Won’t that put us more in goal debt?” The Peacock warned.

“Not if you fix the bubble machine!”