Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production

Despite darkness soon being a reality, the beautiful day started descending, feeling confidently empowered, mover and shaker, Kia Ford considered fulfilling, visiting wolves' commitments brought upon her by the schedulers.

“Peacock, let’s go,” the Hammer Girl insisted.

“Should I contact Nunno the Spirited Saint for any magical good luck conjuration?” Remarked the Peacock figuring a wizardly mythical path, was a legitimate confronting way, respectfully proved successful through time. “You know Robert Ed Woods is coaching and rumored reports state, they are developing great leadership for their pending relegation assignments.”

“Peacock, Wolver Hamp toners are below English Premiere standards,” Kia Ford noted, “I am hoping to rise above all, and survive this predicament.”

Finding out the tricky trees in the forest really did not have any force, calmed Kia Ford, giving the All-American star-spangled banner, personal security, featuring the redemption soon could be at hand understanding defense mechanism closure theory.

With the moon peeking out, accepting the glowing sun glare, Kia Ford and the Peacock endured the hiking trail, “can you hear that? ‘Peacock’?”

“What?”

“Already, they are serenading an evening audience with their operatic howls,”

“I did not know wolves had a musical background,”

“It sure sounds nice,” Kia Ford commented, continuing her journey.

“Yes, you see relegation may not be that bad,” the Peacock tried comforting, a sore subject.

“Peacock,” Kia Ford stated entering the den.

An unbelievable sight encompassed the two, greeting the visitors, observing taken out disposable waste, and the wolves' brave front attitude promotional presentation, “Fear Nothing,” artistically carved, using timber billboard advertising style landscape decorations.

“Robbie,” the Peacock paused taking a moment to interpret the bark scribed words, “Ed Woods, your choir ensemble seems to be progressing very well,”

“We have a soloist named Arias, who is out of this world,” Robert Ed Woods informed, “got his goal, early and quickly today.”

“Really,” the Peacock replied.

“Really,” Kia Ford repeated.

“Also, Mother nature’s late afternoon spotlight displayed a cute familiar yellow tinge, and you know what?”

“What?” Kia Ford and the Peacock expressed.

“Another goal for us,”

“Two goals, wow,”

Before taking a break, Robert Ed Woods wanted one more factual interesting point inserted, “Finally, our main performer is a teenager and ready for leadership responsibilities.”

“And I am sure that would make three goals, for you,” the Peacock counted.

“Yup,”

Hearing all this good news created worrisome pain, bullying Kia Ford and when the United West Ham’s sidekick promotional fowl found the disappearing damsel, she pleaded, tearing up, “even know, good old glory find themselves down at the bottom, those coyotes still have a scheme, Peacock,”:

“You know why?”

“Why?”

“When at home they know how to get goals,”

“Okay, I know my score sheet is clean and shows no goals,” Kia Ford surmised, “if I can get home, things could be different and turn this situation around.”

Next forty-five minutes didn’t produce much, and the Peacock along with Kia Ford departed very quietly, not getting the three points they wanted. “Three points would change everything,” Kia Ford reflected seeing the tricky trees ears open, “following next weekend’s white lily invasion, the relegation debate will be a rearview mirror discussion.”

“But with goals at home,” the Peacock concluded, “chopping down tricky trees could be a springtime operation.”

“Peacock,” Kia Ford cautiously halted, “this haunting setting fears nothing, messages Gothically engraved, burned permanently, creature characters’ upper crust who do not have goals scare tactics, says four-legged demotion demons are leaving kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t there coach named Robert Ed Woods?”

“And they prowl areas neighboring the tricky trees?” Pondered the Peacock,

“How are you doing with those auditions?”

“Won’t know anything more until the festive fixtures are over,”

“Hmm,” Kia Ford mindfully strategized.