Porsche Man: The English Premiere West Ham

A new year started only a couple days ago, not only did Porsche Man achieve top ten status, but still the American theatrical tease claimed knockout worthy. Sitting peacefully on her courtside patio, she knew no goals were happening any time soon, despite the successful euphoric stimulation summertime beach dreaming.

“I could turn this tranquil area into a sandy paradise,” Porsche Man contemplated, “simply put, in a few calls to certain individuals, the delivery service would honor my goals and say bring me buckets.”

Zipping up her jacket, staying warm, Porsche Man headed back inside when she heard a knock, “who could that be?” She wondered.

Opening the door, the cider army stood there, innocent and tasty, “did you order some warm beverages?”

“Well yes, I did, come on in,” Porsche Man cordially invited, the young impressible gentlemen into her lair.

“You look like a knockout in that nice sporting scarf,”

“Thank you, Porsche Man,” the Cider Army representative responded, “we are both knockouts today.”

“Yes, I know,” Porsche Man agreed, “and what do you think will happen if we have the same amount of goals?”

“We will meet again,” the lad stated handing her some cider.

Taking a sip, the colonist had an empowering jolt, transitioning her personality into a Julie Bowen caricature, which brought her international success, “that is right, I got my goal early. Now you are going to have to plan and get one.”

Feeling reality pressures, the young boy paused and drank some cider, knowing he could learn a lot from the star-spangled banner strategy.

“Do you have a name?” Porsche Man inquired.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, “it is Thomas”

“Hmm, and do you have a plan to get goals?”

Thinking hard about the challenge, Thomas felt stronger realizing his conversation potential, “yes I want a goal, and I thought up a plan to get one.”

“And what was that?”

“I came up with a scheme,” Thomas started,

“A scheme?”

“Yes, a con way to meet you and get my goal.”

Folding her arms Porsche Man felt flattered, “tell me more.”

Gulping the cider Thomas continued, “I saw you at the festival on stage asking, ‘Tommy, can you hear me?’ And I said to myself, yes, I can hear you.”

“And you think that will get you a goal?” Porsche Man chuckled.

“I met you didn’t I,”

Noticing everything level, Porsche Man wondered if she would get a second goal and how dreadful it would be if Thomas had a scheme up his sleave for another one removing her ‘knockout’ status.

Nothing materialized allowing both to leave their engagement even. “Did you enjoy my cider?” Thomas started departing.

“Oh, Thomas, I did enjoy the drink.”

“Would you like to join me at my place next week for another round?”

“Are you scheming to get more goals?”

“Maybe,” Thomas answered, “what about you?”

“Well, I still am a knockout here, so yes I do plan on getting goals when I visit your place.”

“I will see you then,” and Thomas saw himself out.

Once the apartment fell silent, Porsche Man collected the paper containers, throwing them away. “Such a nice boy that Thomas, I just do not know about his ‘con way go getting schemes’. It did work today.”

Suddenly outside the window a red robin flew through the cold setting reminding Porsche Man, spring soon would be here, and she needed to get those points.

“But my dear, Robin,” Porsche Man addressed, “if I successfully win all my knockout assignments then I will have the same opportunities as the top ten, five or four.”