((Fishie: *swims in a circle*
Dib: *watches fishie and giggles*))
Dib had found a rather torn up bed in an upstairs room. Stuffing spilled out of the mattress on one end, but there was still a tattered pillow. Looked more then good enough to the tired boy, and Dib climbed in and curled up. His scythe-like bit of hair drooped into his face, and his trenchcoat was slipping off down one arm, his shirt riding up and showing an inch or two of his thin, slightly muscled stomach, but he didn't give a care. He lay there, withought pulling up the non-existant covers, and started to drift.




