Hi. I'm bored, and although it is an everyday occurrence, I simply will not abide it. Chances are, you (whoever the heck you're supposed to be) are suffering from boredom as well. That's why, out of the goodness of my heart, I will cure the both of us of this ailment by writing this fanfiction for our own sick amusement.

Disclaimer: I'm a middle-schooler. What makes you think I would own anything as famous as Naruto?

"Mom! I'm home!" I shouted as I strolled through the front door, unceremoniously dumping my backpack on my dad's nearby easy chair. Ha.

"Miriam, can you bring me my purse? It's on the coffee table." My mother's voice came from the other room.

I scowled, but did as she asked. Mom was in the kitchen, doing bills as usual. I plopped her purse on the table and glanced at her.

"Don't call me Miriam."

"It's your name, dear." She said, not looking up.

"Doesn't mean I like it." I pouted slightly, then scowled again. "I told you to call me Mimi."

"That's a terrible nickname."

"Better than Miri or Ria. Especially better than Miriam."

She let out a long sigh. "Honey, I'm doing bills. Quiet down or leave the room."

I live in a quiet house, in a quiet neighborhood, in a quiet town. Life here is quiet, shockingly. I don't mind. I don't have any sort of thirst for adventure or anything like that. Darius, my brother, is another story entirely.

His room is covered in random posters from random TV shows and movies, and I swear he thinks they're all real. He dreams of going off on some quest and saving the world. His current favorite is an anime called Naruto, so he spouts out facts about it every time I see him.

Thanks to him, I'm forced to watch it too, or suffer his ten-year-old wrath. It's not that bad. Better than some other animes he could be watching.

Maybe I should tell you about myself. I'm thirteen. My name is Mimi, despite what mom and dad seem to think, and I usually refuse to respond to anything else.

I mean, Miriam?

I've got brown eyes and long brown hair that's hardly ever brushed. I'm skinny and small for my age, and I use that to my advantage while playing hide and seek. My hobbies include loiter-admiring nature in the park, hanging out with my little brother, embarrassing said brother in public, and squealing over puppies at the pet store.

My likes are dogs, carrots, and people who don't refer to me as Miriam. My dislikes are the name Miriam, spice, mint, and bullies.

My dreams for the future are growing up so I can legally change my name, and getting a puppy.

After stomping to my room dramatically, I jumped on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I squirmed a bit. I looked at the clock. I leapt up and ran out of the room.

"I'm going to park BYE!" I shouted as I rushed out the back door, not waiting for an answer. Short attention span. You know how it goes down.

Ahh, the park. The scent of lingering cigarette smoke in the air, the multitude of trash under foot, the hobo that's usually seen asleep on the park bench. It's my favorite place to hang out, just to get away from life for a while, you know?

Leaning against the big sign that proudly stated NO LOITERING I contentedly whistled songs that do not sound good when whistled. (AN/ That's actually fun to do. Cyber cookie if you try it.)

"Yer lookin' a bit bored, ain't ya?"

I preceded to jump, bang my head on the now cursed sign, and fall on my butt.

The hobo (who had just been talking to me) laughed loudly and helped me up with a grubby hand.

"I've seen ya come here before. Always lookin' right bored, you are." He grinned, showing his nearly toothless mouth.

I shrugged. "Yup."

"Life 'round here ain't that intrestin', no sirree."

"Not especially, no."

"Heh. I bet you never even had one adventure 'round this place, eh? Well, I can fix that. Ever thought of goin' to another world?"

I was ever so slightly creeped out now. Maybe I shouldn't have been talking to a hobo in the park... naw. What's the worst that could happen?

"No, but it'd most likely be amusing at least."

The creepy hobo laughed again. "Yep. I figured ya'd say that, kid." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a... mechanical pencil? What? He also pulled out a piece of paper.

"This was given teh me by a strange man, said he lived in another world. He also gave me this!" He proudly presented an orange book. "Nice man, bit of a pervert, though."

"Um..."

"Ah! Right, then." He showed me the paper, which was written in another language. "This here's a contract with a certain god. Never found use for it myself; I'm givin' it to you."

He thrust the paper and pencil into my hands.

"Thanks...?" The hobo was gone. Creepy.

I sat at my small desk, staring at the 'contract' the crazy hobo gave me. It was obviously just a piece of paper- if looking, smelling, and feeling exactly like a piece of paper said anything.

A contract with a god? Please.

Rolling my eyes, I signed my name at the bottom of the paper. There was a flash of light, like a camera flash coming from my signature.

The foreign symbols on the paper began to move. What?

They swam across the paper rapidly, each figure fitting into a well known design, a design I recognized. A leaf with a swirl. Light engulfed the room, and I was forced to look away. The hobo's voice seemed to echo around me.

Ever thought of goin' to another world?

Moral of chapter: Don't talk to hobos. Review, yadda yadda, tell me what you think. Also, try finding a name for the hobo. I couldn't.