Peanut Butter and Crack.

One Shot!

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

MAJOR WARNING: DO NOT TAKE THIS FIC SERIOUSLY! OPFORCE IS NOT TRYING TO ENCOURAGE ANY READERS TO TAKE DRUGS!

AN: Yeah, this is one of the most stupidest, idiotic pieces of fiction I have ever wrote, but yet I found so much entertainment while writing it. I got inspired from watching Family Guy, The Simpsons, and The Chappelle's Show, and thus, I came up with this. I wrote this for the sake of entertainment, so please give me your input whether it's bad or good. You gotta love drugs sometimes, they can give you such a good laugh. Remember, I didn't take this seriously, so the language might not be as enriched as I would usually write it in. Then again, if I did, then it wouldn't be funny.

Allow me to warn you that the themes in here and anything but clean. There is no sexual content, so you're safe on that part, but the morals… you are going to have to read at your own discretion, in which I do not hold responsible.

Read at your own risk, people.

A shinobi's life wasn't all about being better; or who knew cooler jutsus; who knew more jutsus; who could kick whose ass at what time of day or at what environment; it wasn't about status and recognition either. In all honesty, it was pitiful to think that way. Being a ninja was a profession that had no greater importance than that of a baker, the editors who work for the town's newspaper, and any one else who could consider their job a career. Hell with it, the reason why people became shinobis was because all they knew was to fight, and they needed cash to earn themselves a living. In a way, it was the most dangerous job compared to everything else, and yet some people, like me, were just too retarded to be able to use my hands for anything, thus this was the only job I could possibly take. Knowing that I was, in their eyes, mentally retarded, they had an idea what was going to happen to me once I tried out for missions. They said I failed more missions than I passed, and it was my fault that I scarred the records of my two teammates' forever.

Like I said, being a shinobi was just a job like everything else, but I refused to believe it. I thought it was glorious, wonderful, marvellous, spectacular, rewarding, and no other candidate could possibly outmatch the possibilities of being a ninja. I had that kind of thinking in mind until… I didn't know when it really was exactly. However, it was during one of the years I was wandering around the world with Jiraiya and we needed some cash –since that drunken lunatic spent all the money on pictures on a guy who he thought was Tsunade. Anyhow, it was also in this town where I realized how dumb I truly was. This town, unlike all the others, had no need for shinobis. A rare, peaceful town it seemed, and the only way to earn some cash was to do 'honest' work. If I must, I'd rather save the humiliation to myself; but I failed as a waiter boy, cook, baker, gardener, babysitter, schoolteacher's assistant, tree chopper, archery specialist, human billboard, life-sized coat hanger, stationary vehicle, and many more. I got fired from every job within an hour's worth of working!

I was a failure, and the only reason why I lasted this long as a shinobi because all I had to do was beat people –and it felt so good! I was a rageaholic, I am addicted to rageahol!

Instead of learning from my past mistakes, in which I should have been developing some kind of skill and be better at it, I fell into the realm of depression. My life became hell; the world was an inevitable darkness despite the sun was up; there was no hope left; and so on and so forth.

That was when Jiraiya came.

"Hey, Naruto," my mentor said, slapping me on the back. "Why are you so down?"

"Because I am useless…" I pitifully replied.

"Don't feel too bad, kid. Hey, you want to smoke some marijuana? People say it's a gateway drug." He took out the weed from his mouth and offered it fatherly, as though that was what fathers should do.

"I don't know…"

"You hands are useless anyway, that's why you smoke,"

Hey, he got me there.

"Give me that," Without thinking, I snatched it from him and took a deep inhale of the poisons the weed had within. Suddenly, naked Sakura, Ino, and Hinata appeared in my vision! Wow, they were all there! Damn, it never felt better. Where was this shit when I was twelve?

That was when Uzumaki Naruto came to the world of drugs –and still loving it. Fuck the motto, 'Don't underestimate me! I will make people acknowledge me!' Now it was, 'Hey, hey, hey, hey. Smoke weed everyday.'


Uzumaki Naruto today no longer smoked weed often. It got old and inefficient, and it was no longer enough to bring us back to the highness I crave for. I tried heroine; lots of booze; spray paint inhalants; vodka; wine; red wine; white wine; red wine with white wine; pure 100 percent alcohol; tar; asbestos; and crack, and damn nothing worked better than crack! Once I tried them, I couldn't stop having them. By the time I went back to Konoha with my whacked up sensei, we had a bottle of alcohol in one hand, and cigarettes, filled with marijuana weeds, in the other. We were just smoking away when the guards approached us. They almost didn't allow me to enter the town because they accused me to be pretending to someone that I wasn't –not until I showed them my pass.

They said something about me looking like thirty… and really white lips, like a haunted ghost from the past. Hell, I looked like someone who was going to die at any minute.

So we went to Tsunade's office after that. After a several years' worth of absence, it was only natural and considerate to purchase a souvenir for someone as honourable as the Hokage. The old, idiotic, loud, retarded me might have given her free tickets to Ichikaru Ramen, but it was more than likely that she could eat there for free, and Jiraiya would donate another volume of his filth. This year, however, the two of us thought alike –especially when we were drunk and high from the smoke. When we arrived, we had two barrels of beer just waiting to be consumed by that woman.

That bitch immediately contacted the mental illness agencies.

Besides that, there was some serious issues that had to be discussed. It wasn't about my training, no, since I did not improve at all (I got a lot worse from the drugs) but it was about my apartment.

"You can no longer live at your old place, Naruto," Tsunade told me in my intoxication.

"Oh," I asked airily, as if I barely heard her. "Why's that?"

"Because it's already sold,"

"By who?"

"Me!" The answer came from my mentor, slapping me at my back hard, "I sold your place!"

"Why the hell did you do that? Where do I sleep now… not like I can't sleep on the streets or anything, but still!"

"Your apartment was worth five million yen a month ago, and so I asked Tsunade to sell it for me without your consent and so I could use the money!"

"Hey, bitch, that's my money!" I accused, pointing a finger as I flung my bottle carelessly to the wall as it broke into hundreds of shards.

"Now, calm down, Naruto," Jiraiya said in a surly voice, "I know I won't just use the money for myself, that's why I wanted to spend it on a party –our style."

I gasped in realization and delight. "Oh, good God, when is it? You got to tell me!"

"It's already on the current issue of the 'Konoha Report' Magazine," he told me, taking out that magazine from nowhere to show me. My already delighted face shined brighter than before when the news of the party was actually on the front cover of the magazine. It said, 'Come join Jiraiya's Party in Red Leaf Hotel on June 10th for your chance to meet Uzumaki Naruto again!' This was an awesome surprise. Of course, everyone was invited.


Everyone I wanted to see was there that day. Ino, Sakura, Hinata especially, but damn they were dressed. And the only one who gave the closest illusion of sensuality was Sakura, who wore a red dress that stuck onto her like a second skin. It wasn't like she had breasts, God, Hinata should have been wearing it, and then I would have given her all the attention in the world! Even at a delicate age, I knew she had a damn good body, but fuck her timidity; for it ruined all the images I wanted to imagine!

The girls were only a small side dish of the real thing, since the real deal was the amount of crack that was at the party. There was a whole mountain of them that reached higher than 9 feet! It was crack from every angle, and it took me a full minute just to walk around it once to admire its awe before Jiraiya and I started doing shit with it. Five million yen worth of crack, I was in heaven.

Like an animal, I fucked all the boring conversations and greetings and jumped into that pile of crack, smoking away like some goddamned, evil motherfucker who didn't know how to set priorities straight. When I inhaled some of that shit, the naked Hinata, Ino, and Sakura appeared right before my eyes again before they took me to my blissful heaven –of more crack, and they even sniffed it with me!


Konoha had no access to that stuff for a long while after that party, and I was growing more uneasy each passing day. I had to find a substitute; it was mandatory. I tried weed, but my body demanded more. I tried drinking, and yet I still felt troubled. If I didn't get my crack soon, I would die from lack of poison in my bloodstream. Anything that looked like powder might just be the salvation I was searching for. Where could I find powders? Where was a place that had lots of it?

The supermarket, somehow, was my answer.

I ran into the store like a madman, nearly trampling over a kid; getting nailed by a decoration right by the nuts; knocking over the entire shelf when my leg failed to make the sharp turn when my whole body did; and a lot of crazy shit that normally would have gotten me arrested if there were such things as cops in Konoha.

I cracked open the flour, savagely running my hands through the unpaid merchandise before I grabbed a handful of it out and smudged it under my nose, stuck some in between my gums, and perhaps tasting it as I smeared it on my lips. When I noticed this was just flour, although the label said it was flour, I tossed the one I had onto the ground before trying another sack.

This procedure went on and on for hours. I tried corn starch, baby powder, foot powder, sugar, salt, jelly powders, metal residues, you name it and I tried it. Nothing worked! When the storekeeper found out what kind of mess I was making, I fled as fast as my wobbly legs could allow me.

I went unconscious midway, and when I woke up I found myself alone in a open, bright room with Hyuuga Hinata.

"Naruto-kun, you have a problem," the Hyuuga girl began, threatening to cry.

"Problem? What problem? I got no problem,"

"Yes, you do," she insisted, "Look at me. You have a drug problem."

"No, I don't, I am fine! Look at me, Hinata, I am fine!"

"Not to me, you're not. Tell me, Naruto-kun would never do something like this. What happened to you? Why are you doing drugs? You know that you are ruining your life?"

"It is not ruining my life, I am happy, damn you,"

"Don't think that druggies are useless people, Hinata," I said, carefreely and casually, "We work hard, too! At getting crack, yes, but Jiraiya had been working real hard to be sales agent and be some other businessman. He worked for months for that degree, and now he's got a permit. He sold my apartment for five million yen, and we had that mountain of crack as our reward! It's the best thing I could ask for! The crack was like… this high!"

"About that-"

"And I have a good daily supply of nutrients from them, too. I don't eat ramen anymore, I find peanut butter and crack so much more fulfilling and tasty. Goddamn, it's good! Now that I think about it, I should have dipped a sandwich at that mountain of crack last week…"

"Naruto-kun, you need help," Hinata urged on persistently.

"Damn it, bitch, I told you I don't need any help! I am fine! Fine, damn you! Fine!"

"Naruto-kun… What were you doing in the supermarket before I found you half-dead on the streets?"

"I was looking for crack! I found nothing, like this town is purified or something! Damn this shit, this place is too clean! There should be those dark alleys in this town, you know, undergrounds where all the shit is sold. From heroin to tobacco, it should be all there, and there should be parties with mountains of crack everyday! But it's not in this place, and I searched here for days… and found nothing! This town sucks! It's got nothing!"

"Naruto-kun, you need help, let me help you."

"Naruto!" a voice suddenly came in, and a new presence, too.

"Jiraiya," I called out, delighted to see him here than to talk to this senseless bitch.

"I just sold Tsunade's house for eighty million yen, and of course I did it without her knowing. I have all the money in cheque right now, let's go claim it and spend it on another party!"

"Goddamn!" I cheered, my emotions going high just imagining the amount of crack we could buy with that much money, "This time we would have a stock as high as Everest!"

"Come on, let's head for the door,"

"The door? But the window is right there!" And then the two of us ran for Hinata's window and jumped out of it, leaving a very, very saddened and shocked Hyuuga girl.

Uzumaki Naruto, menace to society, unholy for the living, a poor example for anyone, failure at every single thing he did, deadlast, man with great potentials but hopelessly wasted them, now lied six feet under after sniffing eighty million yen worth of crack. I didn't die alone though, for Jiraiya soon followed me afterwards. I passed away at the fruitful, promising age of sixteen, and it was the best day of my life.

AN: Did you have fun with this one-shot? Please give your comments; for I really would need them this time around. Oh, I was laughing the entire time while writing it, too. Yeah, it's really bad, but it's just so funny, in my opinion anyway. Well, hope you guys didn't find it too offensive!

See you all on the next update of my epic fictions. This had been fun.