It was morning. Nobody cared except for Lee and Gai.
Then it was later morning, and the real people woke up. One of these real people was a LOUD ANNOYING BAKA named Naruto Uzumaki. Not Uzumaki Naruto, not at all. This BLONDE BRAT had his first name first, 'cause that's how it's supposed to be, no matter what those godless Japs say. His thought process began to shift from dreaming to reality.
" . . . eN ramen ramen ramen ramen ramen ramen Sakura-chan ramen ramen . . . " he said, but not really, because he's still thinking it.
So he got up and went to the kitchen. This trip was so unimportant that it doesn't get any detail. The only reason it's even in here is because I'm a rebel but not that much of a rebel.
He sat down. He got up. He heated up some water. He poured it into his cup of instant ramen, 'cause that's all he eats. Never mind the manga, it's wrong. He ate the ramen. He dressed. He left.
The apartment was silent for a while before the pile of poor, abused pronouns got up and limped out the front door, muttering quietly and rubbing its collective sore ass.
Naruto, the DOBE, sprints down the road. He's late! OH NO!
He also forgot his kunais, because 'kunai' is an American (not English) word and I can pluralize it like that.
He gets to Team Seven's training ground and immediately charges at his beloved Sakura-chan, arms flung wide and shrieking like all the demons of hell are chasing him.
"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAKUUUUUUUUUURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHAAAAAAAAAA . . . "
He took a breath.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"
Birds fell deafened and stunned from surrounding trees.
Sakura spun around and ran at Naruto, arms open to recieve the hug. At the last minute, she dodged under his grasping limbs and shanked him in the side with a kunai before turning and running at Sasuke full-tilt, screaming
"SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA . . . "
She took a breath. Sakura has weaker lungs than Naruto.
"AAAAASUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU . . . "
Another breath.
"UUUUKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE . . . "
Christ, just die already, you fucking banshee.
"EEEEEEEEE-KUUUUUUUUUN!"
She glomped onto him, squealing like a baby trapped in mosquito netting. He didn't do anything but go "Hnn.", 'cause he's cool like that.
Sakura passed out from his borderline-illegal amount of coolness.
Naruto was too busy lying on the ground and trying to stop his kidney from falling out to protest.
Kakashi appeared on a railing that was conveniently located nearby in a poof of ninja smoke. It wasn't really ninja smoke, of course, he had just finished smoking a bowl with the Hokage. Nobody else knew about it, because they were just too damn ninja-like and cool to be caught. Plus, eye drops and an air freshener did wonders.
"Yo."
The railing frosted over from the sheer amount of cool radiating from him.
The fact that Naruto was dying and Sakura was unconcious with one of her hands in Sasuke's shorts did nothing to disturb him. It was their usual morning routine, except for Sakura having her hand down Sasuke's shorts, and that just meant his team was growing up. He wiped away a sentimental tear. One day they're trying to grab his bells and the next they're copping feels and stabbing each other, just like grown-ups. They just grew up so fast!
He didn't usually act like this. There must've been something in the pot. Fucking Mist, can't even grow a plant right. What was this world coming to?
Naruto yelled for help and was promptly dropped from third to last on his to-do list, right after going to the hair salon and becoming less of an antisocial bastard with a slightly creepy fixation on a dead boy. The kid should learn some respect for his elders.
"I have looked underneath the underneath," he paused to giggle madly there. Oh, he knew what was underneath the underneath. Who would have guessed the Hokage, the legendary Professor, master of three thousand techniques, the ape summoner, wore women's underwear? Lacy red boy shorts at that? The kinky old bastard. He really needed to get laid. Kakashi heard there were some real foxes at the Konoha Senior Folks Home (The Old Farts' Senile Dying Center), albeit toothless and geriatric old foxes who spent more time complaining about the dry ache in their hips than doing anything particularly sexy, but foxes nonetheless!
"I have looked underneath the underneath," he started again, "and I have found that we have no mission today. See ya."
With that, he vanished. The ground around his chosen railing turned to permafrost.
Sasuke "Hnn"ed again. What a waste of time. No mission, and his LOUD SCREECHY DINGBAT of a teammate had her hand down his pants. His father had, with his dying breath, told him not to fool around with the opposite sex. He could still remember his words like it was yesterday.
"Gir... -Cough- girls... -Pant, wheeze- hide... -Cough, rattling breath- hide the... -Pant, cough, cough- hide the fun... -Choke, cough, checks his watch, death-
Sasuke didn't have an idea what "Girls hide the fun" meant, but he had taken it to heart. Literally, in fact. He had wrote it in a heart-shaped and empty book he had found in the Uchiha compound. He didn't know what the book thought it was doing, being empty and heart-shaped, but damn him if he was going to ask anyone. Besides, he'd look silly, asking people what it was for, the great Last Uchiha asking someone who already knew. Maybe he'd just use his Sharingan to steal the secret sometime. That was alwa...
Something had caught his attention. That girl (He had never bothered to learn her name) had curled her hand up in her sleep. Normally this wouldn't catch a spark of attention from the boy, but it was what her hand curled around that made him -coughbadpuncough- stand at attention.
Twenty seconds later, he decided his dad was full of shit. Girls were fun. He climbed up a tree and went to sleep.
Sometime after that, Sakura woke up and wondered why the hell her hand was so sticky.
During all this, Naruto had given up on calling for help and dragged his own ass to the hospital.
This story is all I hate in Naruto fan fiction, plus some strangeness for fun, 'cause life isn't fun without fun, or some other really deep bullshit like that that some dead guy said once to some beggar before he scratched his unbathed ass and went wenching.
And I completely refuse to give this story some pretentious name full of adjectives. FDSFGS it is, and FDSFGS it will remain. The title hides none of the story's idiocy.