Porsche Man The English Premier West Ham

While preparing for a meeting with the boys in the band, Porsche Man received a postal featuring artificial intelligence technology in their donation marketing strategy.

“I am Hungary,” the request stated, “and I need a place.”

Picking up the telephone, she called the advertised toll-free number and soon enough, a Serbian knocked on the door.

“Well, thank you ma’am I have been at the sporting club, and decided visiting your city was a good idea,” he explained, “and I am Hungary.”

Inviting the tourist in, the guest promptly positioned himself at the kitchen table, “I am very grateful for this, ma’am. I do have a goal, you see,”

Smiling due to performing a good deed, Porsche Man described her three goals and for the next couple days, the Serbian acted as a nice addition inside her independent walls, “You never should walk alone,” the foreigner suggested reminding the theatrical tease she had an obligated appearance today.

Collecting her belongings Porsche Man realized happy days were here again, heading down to the quarry in search for men. Upon arriving she bumped into a theatrical tease colleague Anna, who already was in the partying mood.

“You know who I saw here?” She screamed.

“Who?” Porsche Man replied with a question.

“Red,”

Laughing, Porsche Man remembered Anna’s father bought the field’s naming rights and called it Anfield, “so go to him,” Porsche Man advised.

“What,” Anna blurted out, “Go with him?”

“Yeah, he needs a goal,” Porsche Man commentated, hearing Anna shout “please, please me,” before observing them connect.

Seeing the uplifting scene made Porsche Man go into her Julie Bowen Artificial Intelligence routine casually drifting through the crowd feeling good vibration about the goal she achieved, getting entrance into the event.

All squared during intermission the American headed over to the refreshment stand, “ah Porsche Man, the young boy behind the counter greeted, “welcome to the concessions, are you ready to give up?”

“Give up? What? I have a goal,” Porsche Man defended her ground, “what is that Sgt. Pepper drink?”

“In your country it’s called Dr. Pepper,” the worker told her, “There is a discount if you have a lonely heart.”

“I have a goal, not a lonely heart.”

Sipping the drink, Porsche Man enjoyed the entertaining second half but left with only one goal. While going through the exit, she noticed Red’s left arm around Anna and two girls clinging to his right.

“Hey, Porsche Man, Red has two more goals,” Anna lip synched followed by a wave.

Walking home alone Porsche Man, did not display a losing attitude, only looked towards the future. Noticing the light flickering she wondered if the Serbian actually went home.

Slowly unlocking the door, the creaking noise enhanced the mood, “hello,” she investigated not expecting any response before grabbing a hammer sitting under a key rack. Suddenly a devilish figure going through the daily mail appeared, “are you an imp?”

“No, I am your cousin from the states,” the creature identified, “actually Porsche Man I came here to request your presents at my engagement on Wednesday, I know it’s not as elite as the boys in the band, but” the imp stated showing off, twirling his tail and flexing eyebrow talents.

“Okay,” Porsche Man defended her turf, “I will take your challenge at your place.”

Grinning ear to ear, the imp let the lady escort him to the door, “that will be nice, Porsche Man,” he remarked watching the door face slam.

“Geez, some gnomes,”

“I am not a gnome, I am an imp,” Porsche Man heard from outside, “and secondly, sprite is better than Sgt. Pepper any day!”

Closing her eyes Porsche Man pathetically pondered an evening with an imp, coming to closure the experience could only sharpen her blades for the weekend.