The Red Belly...

The red belly dances the Bosanova in Spain. He came to Spain on vacation and got a little too much of the Spanish sun. The Spanish sun burnt the white skin of the Irish man's belly to a crisp. The red belly is at a cabana party, which is serving tons of food and wine. He is already feeling the blood rise to his face. Now his face is the same color as his belly; as red as the wine he is sipping. The red belly is dancing to the sounds of Bosanova and he feels the rhythm of the Congo drums beating in his bones. The beating in his bones follow the beating of his heart. The red belly is shirtless because it is an extremely scorching night. The red belly is large, but he does not care. Little Spainards watching his red belly flop up and down as he jiggles to the beat of the music. They laugh and so does he. They taunt him yelling, "red belly, red belly," but to the red belly, it only sounds like a part of beat. He rubs his parched, burnt and peeling belly and jiggles around some more.