Iruka waited impatiently
Gritting his teeth.
"It began at the ramen store,
At the edge of our Village Leaf.
This happened just yesterday,
No folk were present.
Except for the ramen-maker
Who looked a bit like a pheasant."
Iruka didn't understand this comment—not one bit.
But he knew if he questioned, Naruto would get into a fit.
So the chunin let this statement slide
And gave some coaxing, thus he shamelessly lied.
Naruto was content.
His setting had been made.
He felt he was weaving a myth.
This was how the big boys played.
"I slurped up my
miso,"
Naruto continued in a fake laze.
"I grabbed another bowl
And then something averted my gaze.
It was a quaint little shrine just across the street.
A steaming bowl of ramen was at the altar's feet.
I couldn't miss out on free ramen, so I went to check it out.
When I got close the shop keeper gave a shout.
"If you're done, scram!
Don't touch that ramen—don't dare!"
I turned and squinted meanly.
I didn't give a care.
I wanted to punch that old geezer.
Right in his pheasant-man face!
But I decided to act mature.
So I walked away in a quick pace."
Naruto did the right thing, making Iruka's heart soar
That is, until the poor man heard there was more.
"To the altar I marched!"
Naruto recalled in pride.
"I picked up that damn bowl
And ate the ramen inside!
I know it's
sacrilegious,
But there was worse.
The ramen regenerated, came to life
And gobbled my purse."