Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production

Blaring red glowing illumination signals, sent a message, occupying the living room, proceeding very carefully, avoiding diabolical confrontation, granting an opportunity and the Peacock seized the moment slipping by Kia Ford, turning on the bubble machine, starting the evening stare down engagement.

“What brings you here? Red Devil,” inquired the star, spangled banner image.

“Didn’t you notice? Kia Ford, rain outside,” growled the downtown menace, fixing his fashionable beige trench coat attire.

Cautiously, the Peacock continued proceeding towards the kitchen, noticing an FA Cup, offering the promotional fowl, hope for the future. Grasping a water bottle, the streamer dreamer returned, “has he accomplished anything?”

“No, Peacock, the Red Devil has done, nothing, just sits there taking up space in my living room,”

“They say if you meet the Red Devil, you are dead,” the Peacock mentioned.

“Relegation issue will be dealt with when things are over,” Kia Ford retaliated, straightening, addressing the Bowen Shrine, “if you get a goal, we may steal three points from that lazy Beelzebub bum.”

Hearing not a peep, Kia Ford backed off and situated herself safely, then waited out, the full forty-five minutes. During the break the Peacock and bosswoman retired, standing beneath her courtyard overhang, “adding more turf is not a bad idea,” the song, dance mover and shaker quipped, seeing the Peacock statement pondering.

“You need goals, Kia Ford,” the acting executive assistant, played the broken record another time.

“But if I am in Summer Ville counting how much we can make, renting this place out,”

“Kia Ford, if you leave the English Premiere Estates, only place you can go is,” the Peacock paused, “relegation.”

“But what about Summer Ville?”

“Summerville is a way you can obtain goals and distance yourself from demotion,” the Peacock clarified.

“I guess the grass is always greener,” Kia Ford started seeking shelter when magically Nuno the Spirited Saint appeared, “I figure on a night like this, the Red Devil would show up, and wondered if there was something I could do for you,”

“Nuno, I am always looking for goals,” Kia Ford pleaded.

“And when there is a spirited Saint, festive goals are probable,” the Peacock discovered the bubble machine protection hoping peace would reign.

“Well,” Kia Ford thought for a second, “Tommy, can you hear me?”

“Ah, I like that,” Nuno exclaimed as white smoke puffed, hindering the Red Devil’s resting position.

When the area cleared Kia Ford saw, Tommy’s towering presence intimidate the Red Devil, “Who? Who are you?” Questioned the gothic gremlin.

“I am the Walrus,” joked Tommy, “no I was just conjured here, to bring home a united west ham goal.”

“A goal that cannot be possible,” the Red Devil responded, “with three points, Kia Ford could climb closer, out of relegation.”

Smiling, Tommy impersonated, a food delivery person handing over the precious package, “a goal for you, my dear,”

“Thank you,” a surprised Kia Ford accepted, welcoming Tommy, allowing visiting guests more than forty-five minutes, “is the Red Devil still over there?”

“He’s planning something,” the Peacock warned.

“Haven’t we hit full time yet, the extra allotment sure seems long,” concerned Kia Ford commented.

Suddenly, a gigantic explosion happened, “I guess my goal is finally here,” the Red Devil yelled acknowledging the Iceman arrival, handling a sledgehammer, “I call him Benjamin,” the Red Devil announced, “Miss America meet the Benjiman,” he declared dropping a few bucks, “do not worry Kia Ford, since we are level, I will see myself towards the door. Enjoy relegation.”

“What are we going to do now?” Peacock adjusted many colors, “he meant business.”

“Something is brewing, so we take our souvenir FA Cup, and have a chat with the black and yellow army, this weekend,”

“Good idea,” the Peacock agreed.