Irk Fan Fiction Contest
30It’s Meh’s Birthday! Let’s celebrate. We’ll be celebrating throughout the day (especially during working hours) with games and prizes. You give us your creativity. We’ll reward you with fun bonuses.
We’re kicking it off with what is probably the worst idea that has ever come from the Meh CS team.
We want your best Irk Fan Fiction.
Dive deep into the mind of the troll that runs the worl……d. Write us a story about how you think Irk lives his life, who he interacts with, and maybe dive deep into his personal relationships.
In my notes for planning this game, I have this written:
“Please, no Irk sex.” I feel like I should say that. Try to stick to that rule.
We’ll have prizes for winners. Best in show will get something special.
DEADLINE - You’ve got 24 hours.
- 43 comments, 48 replies
- Comment
@nolrak Yeah, I was all getting ready for some good Irk porn stories. Now I’m not sure it’s gonna be worth reading and certainly my plans to become a published author are out the door…
“Please, no Irk sex.”
i thought that was the whole point of fan fiction? am i missing something?
@carl669 That’s basically what I thought too. Except maybe for Trekkies. But they do things in, um “different” ways.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to delve into the mind of a completely spineless troll who has a hand where his brain should be?!?
Deadline?
@Kidsandliz Added.
@ChadP 24 hours from when? So it closes at 10:59pm CST tomorrow?
@ChadP @Kidsandliz 24 hours from when you start.
@ChadP @Cythwulf So if I start tomorrow I have 24 hours from then. Right? (snicker)
@ChadP @Kidsandliz Sure!
We won’t wait that long to pick the winners, but you can’t rush perfection, right?
@ChadP @Cythwulf
/giphy rotflmao
Welp, that rules out the Irk flip book I was going to go with.
@cinoclav Make it a pop up book instead
Rule or guideline?
“Irk put on his robe and wizard hat…”
Irk lives in a cave under a mall, he likes to sneak in early before the mall opens, and go up to the second level, and watch all the senior citizen mall walkers. he listens to their conversations about who has the cheapest gas prices, and who’s grandkids are the smartest… and i have no idea where this came from… Happy Birthday Meh…!!!
Uhhh … No sex in the fanfic … Hmmm…
Ok
Irk f***** itself.
Or something.
/giphy I don’t fucking know. Ok?
Irk has no penis. Irk has no testicles
He can therefore have no sex
Yes he has hands, yes, he has a mouth
But without his penis and testicles he has no sex drive.
Poor Irk, no sex for him
Tina is my role model.
I might as well write something random, some random Irk story. We’ll see what I can write in five minutes.
----Part 1----
Once upon a time, there was a world. In that world, lived Irk.
Irk was all by himself, without anyone to love. He didn’t know that anyone else existed, in fact, he was the only person that lived on this world.
There wasn’t any internet, as it was quite a boring place, much like Meh headquarters during when they offer free breadsticks at Domino’s with any pickup order.
One random day, Irk decided that there had to be more to the world than the little room that he called home and decided to open a door that had always been there, but he never actually cared to notice. When he opened the door, a strange glimmer appeared, silvery-metallic in color, swirling and whirling like something from a sci-fi movie, of course, Irk’s world was so boring, that there were no televisions, but that’s just an illustration I thought, as the author of this little thing, I’d use.
He peered quizzically into the strange swirling, whirling entry-way and finally said to himself, “Screw it, I’m tired of this place.”
When he did, he found himself in a giant room full of boxes and random objects which he didn’t recognize.
He wandered over to one and looked at the label. Apparently, he was someplace in some land called Texas. It was also exceedingly hot, unlike his prior home that stayed a constant 77 degrees and never deviated in temperature.
Confused, he shouts in confusion, “Where am I? HELP!”
There is no response. As it was 3am in the morning on a Monday, and there was not a single person in the Meh Warehouse.
Confused and tired from the ordeal, he decides to take a little nap on top of a fairly comfortable looking box.
As dawn approached, he woke up startled to a sound at the far end of the warehouse. A single weirdly shaped creature with a head, two arms and two legs but much larger than he was lumbered in, yawning and mumbling incoherently about something called a Fukubukuro and how they sold far too many and how it’s going to be a long day…
In his little head, he decides that well, that’s the first living creature besides myself that I’ve ever seen, so I might as well be brave or die trying.
Gathering whatever courage he could, he waltzes over to the giant and looks up and shouts with as loud of a voice as he can muster, “Where am I? What are you?”
The giant screams in shock and falls down atop of poor little Irk as he had fainted, for it was a puppet without a master, somehow animated and under its own control…
To be continued.
@carl669
----Part 2----
Poor little Irk didn’t know what to do, as there was 250 pounds of giant lying on him. Good thing Irk was flexible and didn’t need to breathe, being a puppet and all.
It seemed like forever had passed until the giant started stirring. Slowly, it got to its knees and stood up. Looking down, it spotted the puppet.
Irk snapped back up, undaunted from being crushed and exclaimed in the way only he can, “Irk you, giant.”
The creature got down on his knees and stares at the puppet and points to himself, “Me Karl. You puppet.”
Irk shouted, “I’m IRK, I speak your language, stop insulting me you ignorant fool. Take me to your leader.”
Karl says, “Alright, I’ll take you to my leader. Get in this box, there are a few bags of Texas air, so it should be pretty comfortable.”
Irk hops in, and lies down on a halfway deflated bag of Texas air.
Before you know it, Irk is awoken by the box lid opening.
Karl states, “We’re here, Meh Headquarters. There’s not much to it, as we’re just a startup, but yeah, you wanted to meet our leader, so, here you are. I’ll take you to his office.”
After a short walk, they arrive at a door with a paper sign written in Sharpie stating, “President and CEO, Meh.”
Karl knocks not once, not twice, but thrice and a deep voice calls out from the other side, “Come in. You better have the donuts that I asked for three hours ago.”
The door handle is turned and the door is pushed open, to reveal a rather spartan office with a couple file cabinets, a fiberwood desk and a tall, lanky man sitting on a pleather executive chair behind it.
The man exclaims, “Karl, what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be at the warehouse, getting all of those Fukubukuro’s we sold ready. They aren’t going to pack and ship themselves!”
But boss, Karl explains, “I came in to unlock the warehouse and I came upon this puppet. There’s something strange about him though, he’s alive, as alive as you or me!”
“Bullcrap”, the man exclaims, then thinks for a moment and states, “Actually, write that down, bullcrap is a good idea for what we could add to the next Fuku.”
“Regardless, I don’t believe you for a second about some puppet that’s alive, that’s about as dumb as your last idea for a product, the automatic back scratcher that sent Linda to the hospital.”
Karl exclaims, “He’s right here in this box, I can prove it! He says that his name is Irk and he asked to see my leader, so I took him directly to you.”
“This I have to see”, states the man.
Irk prepares for a giant leap and then goes for it, landing right on the CEO’s desk.
The CEO says, "My name is John, I’m the boss around here. I don’t know where you came from, I don’t know what you are, but I know potential when I see it. I have a proposition for you.
“It’s simple”, John continues.
“You work here for us. We will use you to create random videos for our company, Meh. You’ll get millions of views and you’ll make us rich! In return, you’ll get whatever it is that puppets like you need to live and well, whatever else you’d like within reason.”
Irk ponders for a moment, "Well, I honestly don’t know what half of that means, as where I’m from, I lived in a single room for my entire existence, it’s all I knew, but this place seems so much more interesting than where I’m from, so I’ll accept it, under one condition.
“What’s that?” John asks?
“That the videos can be about whatever I want, plus you have to take me on adventures to learn more about this intriguing place where you live.”
John submits, “Fine, fine, tomorrow we’ll take you to the zoo. You’ll fit right in.”
To be continued.
I don’t think I’ll continue with this tonight, but if there’s any desire for any future parts at all, I’ll be tempted to write a bit in the morning.
It’s almost like a writing prompt on Reddit, but for Meh. But random. Without a prompt. And it doesn’t have to make sense. It’s actually better if it doesn’t.
If you want more crap like this written, let me know and I’ll try to flesh out an actual storyline and write out more tomorrow.
If you want any particular Meh characters added, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.
If you want random fantastical mythological creatures added like the Squatty Potty ice cream pooping unicorns, that could probably be done.
Does that include foreplay?
There once was a thing named IRK
He really was some kind of jerk
Meh was getting old
Cuz of all the crap that was sold
So IRK decided he’d twerk.
Irk’s Breakfast Quest:
. . .
What? It’s been done?
Fuck.
oohhh i love limericks !
if you are fast you can get an Irk kit
but don’t waste your money on it
it’s full of regret
on that you can bet
if your’e a robot then you should just quit
IRK wakes up, and looks around the room. He sees NAKHIL, and asks how much sleep he got. NAKHIL says he slept about three hours.
IRK: Well, the first three hours are tough.
[JEFFREY has a strange sensation, where his hair appears off. He goes back to work.]
NAKHIL: Okay, you’re pretty much here.
IRK: My boss asked me some questions before I left on a business trip, and I guess he has something relevant to tell me.
JENNY: Are you telling me this has to do with the time you spent in prison?
NAKHIL: I’m telling you, yeah.
[JETHRO and IRK meet and go down the hall together. NAKHIL enters, JERRY, who is in a corner of the room smiles. JETHRO smiles. JERRY has his hand on NAKHIL’s shoulder.
JERRY: Did you know that your father made you head down here? It’s a pretty hard job to be running an operation like this.
NAKHIL: I hope he’s right. I guess we’d both like to come back alive. What I am saying is, the only reason I was arrested
IRK agrees to help find the missing girl.
A couple of days later, IRK runs into the girl’s mother who had been missing during a night visit. She’s now talking to her on the radio in her hotel room.
At first IRK is suspicious of her claim that the child is missing when he discovers she has actually taken the child as her son. Thork takes the child to the hospital where he is treated.
IRK later makes the trip to the hospital to ask some questions about the child’s condition which he makes sure they answer honestly. When a patient says that her baby was born dead IRK says she should be ashamed of herself and thinks the child should know better. IRK later is able to convince the doctor that this little girl was pregnant with the infant which he is happy to do. IRK then tells the doctor that he doesn’t like the way IRK talks, but he can’t stop thinking about it. IRK says it is time for him to learn to forgive the boy while telling his mother that she has failed to protect him, but the old woman seems unmoved.
Later on in the evening a child who is also pregnant with the boy walks into IRK’s office talking about the baby being buried under rubble. IRK tells the old woman that she needs to be more cautious, as the children’s life is in danger. IRK goes home to take a nap.
“…and there stood Irk. Mouth agape, a dropped cup of coffee spreading out across the floor as he walked in on GLEN having sex…”
You did say no Irk sex.
Back when the earth was new, Irk sat down to write himself a letter. It went like this: “Dear Irk! Hello, and that you for reading my Ask Irk letter. My question is: ‘Why does nearly everything bother me more than it should?’”
Cha-dee-pee writes “Write us a story about how you think Irk lives his life, who he interacts with, and maybe dive deep into his personal relationships.”
Well Cha-dee-pee. If you had paid any attention to me during work hours instead of slacking off with the copy girl, you wouldn’t have to ask people for their thoughts. You would know that I like many activities: including yoga, magic, and answering stupid questions from people like you. Is your life really so boring that you have to speculate about what it might be like to be me? May I suggest, reading a book, or learning a new skill: like knitting. Literally anything else would be a much better use of your time, because you’re not going to get any useful information here.
P.S. Nobody likes the guy who eats the food at a potluck but doesn’t bring a dish, so quit it Cha-dee-pee
I feel this whole contest bothers me a bit more than it should.
“Hey Matthew, don’t we have some reader letters to answer or some videos to make?” asked Irk.
“Nah. I think I’ll go fishing again today. Maybe pick up another possum skull,” opined Matthew. It was another lazy Monday, like the thirty-seven before it. Matt, too, had fallen at one point or another, but in the end he managed to make it through that week.
The weather, of course, played an important part in how much water Matthew could eat. He didn’t have to worry about food shortages, either as water was scarce. All he had to do was bring along more water. No one could find any place for him to live, so they were forced to live on his back, either taking shifts at fish farms or at a local grocery store, picking fruits, veggies, nuts, and grains as well as anything else he wished. A few fish farms in the village owned by the same family ran some good farms full of fish and other livestock, but as soon as they found someone to help feed his father, they abandoned the farm and moved in with those who didn’t think much of him. In that environment, he was pretty fed, if that’s what you’d call it. He was certainly well-fed, the only issue being that he also never had the resources to feed himself anymore.
“Irk, remember you can’t take a shower today. It’s a no-water day for our district. Unless you want to sneak down to the lake.”
“Yes Master.”
“Ah, right. I’ll have to come in then.”
“You’re sure?”
“I will.”
While thinking about it, the boy felt the heat build up to his face making it difficult to breathe, his eyes were wide and it was impossible not to stare at the sky. Not to mention he thought his heart was going to explode. A hot feeling came over him and caused him to lose control of his attention.
“Rina!”
“Rina-san? Er-Erina? Are you okay?”
“No Rina-san, it’s that cold.”
A slight shaking took place for a little while and as a reward, Rina looked at the door.
“Er-Erina’s here. Please hurry up after talking to her.”
“You don’t need to hurry.”
Rina went in and came back almost immediately.
“Are you ok Rina-san?”
There was something she didn’t notice but a man was watching her at all times."
A second girl said he called her a “torturing monster” in a second meeting.
He told her she was not allowed to play outside because her “skin is too smooth,” then told her to remove some of her shoes so he could wear them. The girl, who was 18 at the time, told the other girls to hold their breath while he did so.
“I held back but I felt him try to grab my bottom right there,” said the 18-year-old female. “He grabbed my bottom then and he grabbed me behind my neck. He kept trying to pull me over my head.”
Then she heard a girl and man shout “we’re the bad guys.”
They were dressed and they appeared suspicious but the pair seemed like friendly teenagers, the women said.
They sat on the grass to talk and after a while, one of the men walked up to the girls and told them he wanted to go home and he had to go. He called them all crazy and asked them to leave because they had a long day ahead. In contrast, the first teenager was fine and the second teenager was “very embarrassed … she could not believe what she was hearing.”
All 12 boys were suspended from the football team by their parent’s office within five days of each other, according to the report.
Tajuan Johnson was suspended four games because he punched his coach in the jaw and kicked a school friend outside of school during a game. He also took his pants down at the bus stop, but no charges were filed due to concerns about his safety and he also had a “severe and disruptive” behavior issue.
Jermaine Morgan Sr. was suspended for 10 days because after he left a game he returned and punched his neighbor after he had been drinking that night.
Jordan Worsham was also suspended for 10 days after he had been caught driving drunk in 2010 that ended in him running out of gas on the South Campus in May 2015.
“It takes two weeks for any kids to go from getting suspension to suspensions,” the report states. “I think (that’s why) many of them are still out there. But they have to live with the consequences — which they’ve always done when the football is on.”
The NCAA has a “zero tolerance” policy for the use of violence during the football season as well. As a result, NCAA Director of Athletics Greg Sankey held meetings with players before the 2012 and 2013 Division I championships only to find that more athletes were being thrown into the fire over the incidents than ever, and Irk wasn’t about to be one of them.
“It’s a situation where some of my friends went over to the other side, and what people are looking for that’s out there, and they’re really looking for that,” Irk said. "You just want to hear all about it and to just talk it out when it’s the last day then go back to the office and let the season get off to a good start before we go off to camp.
"So those conversations were going on over and over and you’re just hearing about it and you want to be part of it. "
The first signs had emerged after practice and a few days of games, when it became apparent that coaches were not following proper protocols.
The team also heard a lot of talk on the topic from a few high schoolers outside of North Carolina.
After a brief conversation with the players, an assistant coach with the team went off to a meeting in his office, and it was just a one, two and a half hour session.
The next day, one of Irk’s former players, who was on the bench during the first few games, and nowa manager at the club, complained about the attitude of the player to his fellow players and how they were behaving.
Fellow players became angry with him.
Then the team lost another game.
Then, Irk noticed the player that he did not like, Jai, not only kept complaining about everything the captain was doing, but also kept complaining about where the ball was. Irk went to the trainer. On another occasion, Irk stopped Jai from playing with his friends on the pitch. Later that evening, Irk saw him on the field again.
Irk was furious: Jai didn’t listen to any instructions. It was a waste of time, if Jai wanted to play, Irk could listen to all of Jai’s pitches.
Jai was allowed to play, though.
Later Irk found that at that moment Jai tried to touch a ball while Irk wasn’t looking. Jai’s hand was going through the ground like Jai always did during games. Irk could hear noises from there like the ball moving around in the air.
Immediately Irk went to Jai to find out what was going on. The player had gone home and was on the bathroom stall when he came back to find out why he wasn’t there and Irk immediately became furious. He tried to tell Irk that he would go back home and talk to his son, although Irk didn’t want to listen to him, and went to the bathroom and made his dad angry.
He came back to Irk, threw some more objects around, saying that he wanted to make him mad and that their son could always tell the truth. A moment later, Irk returned with the next object, one that contained the name of the other party. Irk tried to tell Irk he had to take them away, but Irk wouldn’t listen. Irk went back to his family and told them to leave Irk out of his son’s life, telling them “I can’t live with that”. This caused many arguments and tension between the two boys, until the last one, Irk’s son (with the help of his Grandfather) decided, that he needed to find and kill his father. Irk told him to come to his parents, to make sure they knew what was happening in his life, to help them learn the lesson he learned his entire life: Never give up. The conversation stopped, and Irk returned to his room, not missing his son’s gentle touch.
He returned to the office soon after the meeting, and returned a few hours later to see his son, still in his suit. “Have I mentioned how the meeting went?” He asked the young man, in an attempt to get him to answer for his behavior in an office on Tuesday.
“I’m sorry,” said his son. “It didn’t go well from my standpoint.”
“It is,” smiled Irk. “I know it’s a very sensitive issue for our family, but it’s very important to me that our friends are treated with the same level of dignity as me and my friends. My son has given a very gracious response, and I was proud to be their uncle, but there’s one little thing…”
“What is it?” asked Irk, still puzzled.
“Just that we need time to find out what’s really going on from there.”
The meeting broke up again when the family left the office that Irk and his partner were in, leaving the couple’s son alone in the middle of the meeting with the young man Irk had just met.
The next day, on December 16, Irk called the police, and filed a report, which indicated that his son and his friends continued to attack Pfefferkorn’s apartment in his residence. In addition, Irk noticed that several other students had gone to Pfefferkorn’s apartment the night before. It was in this situation that Irk became fearful for Pfefferkorn’s life, according to his report.
On December 16, Irk called the police again in response to a reported physical altercation with Pfefferkorn. He said two other students had gone to his residence to confront him over his alleged support of illegal drug use.
The police investigated; however, Irk said, the physical confrontation was unrelated. Irk later was informed that a student was the victim but said he did not know what that student’s relationship with the other students was. The case was later dismissed, and Irk did not report it to the police. However, after hearing some details of the Pfefferkorn case, Irk contacted the New Year’s Day police and reported that his son had been physically assaulted.
A school principal confirmed that Irk’s complaint was indeed filed. The principal contacted the campus authorities, including the campus police, and instructed them to look into the matter. As a result, the school administration began contacting other schools in the city about hosting the event, officials with the New York City Department of Education, according to ABC affiliate KMBC . The school’s parent, the New York Herald said, was contacted by DOE officials and told to take “a couple of measures” to ensure the safety of its students.
The school’s administrator received “numerous complaints and concerns related to students’ safety” from parents, the school said in a statement.
The teacher involved reportedly went on to be fired, according to The New York Post . The teacher who did apologize, though, is now working at a second school where the school did plan to hold the event.
“We take these issues very seriously and we are confident that the safety and well-being of our students and faculty will be kept within a strict and responsible framework,” the school added.
[Featured Image by Michael S. Williamson/Getty Images]
[Featured text by Transformer, feeding itself the last bit of its own output to keep the story going]
Irk: A Day in the Life
8:00 am: Irk sleeps while the rest of the world is already eating, working, playing, and buying things from Meh.com. Irk dreams of the money he’s making.
12:00 pm: Irk wakes. He lies there thinking about how his name has become synonymous with the random junk Meh sells when it wants to clear its inventory. He makes a mental note to fire everyone at Meh. He totters off to eat a burrito.
2:00 pm: He decides to not fire everyone at Meh when he remembers he makes a ton of money from that random junk. Besides, Irk is easier to say than Fuko… burrito? Whatever. He makes a mental note to give himself a raise for the inconvenience, though. He deserves it.
5:00 pm: He prepares to go out for the evening. Glen calls. Irk sends it to voice mail and eats another burrito.
8:00 pm: At the club, Irk looks around. The music’s loud, the people are pretty, and the drinks are flowing. Irk wonders if he can pay someone to go out and buy him a burrito.
8:01 pm - 2:59 am: PARTY TIME, EXCELLENT
3:00 am: Irk drifts off to sleep. Life is good.
It wasn’t the most pleasant job, but then again it wasn’t the worst either. Irk thought to himself. At least he had missed the last round of breeding. That really was the worst.
Irk had remembered to wear some old boots this time, T-ing days always got messy, last time he had made the mistake of wearing Clawz and there was squelching between his toes for hours.
First up was the Blank room, with less requirements to check it went faster. And lucky for Irk it looked like things had been off to an early start today, almost all the spawning was already done.
With the messiest part over Irk moved on to the count and color verification. Evergreen all looked good, 8 of them, one looked a little small but it should be fine for women’s sizes at least. Cranberry was a huge litter; 15, Irk had to hop into the pen and wade through the ink and move them around a bit to get the full count. Slate only had 6 but they all looked healthy and were true to color, Irk double checked each one, he remembered the time some were listed as slate but were really heather grey. People were not happy. If that happened again it wouldn’t be on Irk’s watch.
Most the other pens were all good, a few looked a little faded but with luck they would pick up their color in the next few days. It wasn’t until the second to last pen that there was a real problem. The tag indicated that they were supposed to be sky blue, based on the navy mother they had bred her with white to try and get the lighter color but instead they came out… striped. Irk hated this part of the job, he filled out the report and hoped for the best. He left a suggestion that they be moved down to the sock department since stripes were always welcome there, but the cross-breeding of shirts and socks always had unpredictable results. Maybe since there was only 9 some of the Flasks would take them home. Whatever happened to them next was out of Irk’s hands.
Irk moved on to the meh. printed room next. In addition to checking the color and counting them, they had to be checked for placement and misprints. It had been some time since any hem.s and shown up but every now and then a moh would be spotted. Each one had to be checked over individually so it took much longer, but Irk didn’t mind so much since a few pens down there was a spawning in progress and as long as he was busy Irk wouldn’t be asked to help.
Irk made it through a few more pens while avoiding a couple more spawnings happening nearby. He only came across one shirt that was too far off center to be acceptable but he didn’t worry about it too much, single misprints always seemed to find a home. There was a batch of that was supposed to be black on cranberry but came out red on cranberry instead. Irk filled the report for them but felt confident that they would sell, after black on black was such a big hit almost anything seemed to work. They would probably end up breeding more of them and pretend it was on purpose the whole time.
Things had slowed down a bit, there were no more spawnings in progress and most of the counts were being finished up. Irk walked around the place admiring all the fresh little guys. This morning Glen had bragged about expecting a special delivery today and Irk wondered if he had missed it. But knowing Glen it could very well be nothing and he just wanted to feel better about himself being stuck in breeding this cycle.
Spawning had started again so Irk grabbed some gloves and headed over to help with a blue one in the corner. As soon as the first one popped out, even with it still covered in ink, Irk knew this must of been the surprised Glen was talking about. But even staring right at it Irk could hardly believe what he was seeing. It had been so long since the last time and they had become so rare. But there it was, right in front of him. By the time the second one was out he knew for sure.
What a great day. A fresh batch of purple shirts.
@metaphore @barney
@juststephen @metaphore Aww… I love purple.
@dave See? See? See? ^^^^^^^^^ @metaphore gets it.
Whenever I see fan fic contest my mind immediately added erotic fan fic in… not sure why. Maybe it’s all the memes about it… so here goes with the non erotic version…
Irk thrashes about under the covers. It’s 1 pm et but he is still trying to get the image of hand puppets out of his mind. He can’t, he’s had this reoccurring nightmare for as long as he can remember. Where he’s just a puppet on a string… Er um without a string.
Finally his wife sacks him hard enough for him to wake up. “Sorry De… ra, I had that dream again wh…”
“ I know hun, you were screaming about it, something about your trash can sized torso is just perfect for someone to go control your every move without a thought in the world about if they used hand sanitizer or not.”
Just then 7 baby irks come in.
Their names are fuku, Fuko, freedom, speakerdock, knife, regret, and quip- irk wishes he didn’t trade the naming rights to his children away for an extra round at the poker night. He was doing well but then lost everything Including the shirt off his back. He suspected that glen had something up but couldn’t prove anything.
He greeted them in his normal fashion! “Those who mustn’t be said aloud for I get charged royalties every time I utter your names…”
Irk knew he couldn’t afford to pay royalties when his stipend was already so low from the lack of work. It wasn’t for lack of trying but the troll, while good at trolling, wasn’t the fastest about clicking the mouse. His breakaway fortnight pro streamer days ended with more bills than anything. It also didn’t help that he wouldn’t pronounce anyone’s name right and didn’t read the TOS before violating it multiple times…
All of a sudden the kids combine into a hand and start to act like they will control him but with no strings attached. That’s when his wife slaps him…
Irk woke from a dead sleep sweat drenched his pillow, his body is cold and glistening from the reoccurring nightmare. “Married? With actual kids and controlled by hands. Glad that won’t ever happen in real life. He looks around to see he’s in the recording studio. Oh a new mad ape den. I wish we did one of these every day for months.
Irk drops a pencil. “Clumsy me. Floor you may not borrow my pencil, give it back you sapless swine” irk goes to bend over to pick it up, looks down and sees an elbow…irk screams…
continue? 10…9…8…
Irk woke up on Meh’s 5th birthday. He realized today was going to be crazy as there was going to be a Meh-rathon. And all those people are going to be going crazy trying to get an IRK.
Irk then got irked because he realized he couldn’t get one of the IRK’s. So he went to management to complain because he thought he deserved the chance to get an IRK. After all, he was Meh customers favorite mascot and the stinking thing was named after him! He complained to management for for several minutes trying to plead his case as to why he deserved an IRK, when he realized that he had access to everything in their warehouse and he knew what would be going into them. And he thought to himself, I don’t want any of that crap! And that’s when he realized that maybe it bothered him more than it should.
It was 5:30 am when Irk heard Chirp calling from the kitchen. “It’s time to get up dear! You don’t want to be late for work again!” Irk resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘She is just trying to help’ he chanted several times in his head like a mantra. His mom’s ‘chirpy’ morning disposition was just a coincidence; that or grandma must have just guessed she’d have one when she thought of that name. He stumbled out of bed with a silent curse after snagging a pinky toe on the bathroom door. After picking out his favorite blue shirt, washing his face, and reapplying his favorite eye circles, he headed to the kitchen for his morning coffee.
“Late night with Glenn last night? You’re looking a little peckish?” Ugh. Though Irk. He was still undecided if free housing with family as a young adult was worth the morning interrogations after a night out on the town.
“Yes, mom,” he said with bleary eyes. “I could use a cup of that coffee though and maybe some headache medicine.”
“Coming right up!” Chirp…chirped too loudly for Irk to appreciate.
Irk thought about the night before. They had a pretty good time. They went to the store before hand and ran into a bit of trouble. Abruptly, Irk pauses his pondering to explain the events to his mom. “You know what bothers me?” said Irk.
“Oh come on Irk,” his mom pleaded, “not this again.”
“No, hear me out. Thiefs. People that employee the 4 finger discount really bother me! I mean, how hard is it to walk to the register and exchange currency? Are they low on finances or are they just too lazy to make the trip to see the cashier. If there weren’t a line would they stop? Are they in a hurry? Glenn and I were in a long line to buy, umm, things, and we watched this kid walk out with…similar things as we were purchasing in his backpack. I mean, if he didn’t want to wait in line, or if he didn’t like the person at the register, we could have waited for him. Seriously! It’s just rude.”
“Okay, okay, Irk, take a breath. Yes, stealing bothers me, too. Drink your coffee. What do you get up to last night?” his mom said hoping to change the conversation topic.
“Glenn and I went to a karaoke bar. They had a contest where you had to sing songs but they could only have 3 letter words. It was hard. I was too dr… uhhh… drowsy to play. Glenn did a really good job though. I think. Then we played pool. I beat him big time. He just doesn’t have the hands for it.”
“I’m glad you had fun with your friend, dear. Are you feeling better? Do you need to stay home? I can make you your favorite banana sandwich and you can have a nap. We have some over on that chair,” his mom said walking that way.
“No, I’m okay. We have this big thing going on today. It’s Meh’s birthday so we’re throwing a big party,” Irk said a little less than enthusiastic.
He saw his mom starting to pack a lunch for him at the counter and hid a small smile. This was part of the reason he continued to live at home. He loved the way she made his lunch. Who doesn’t love bananas? “I thought that you liked parties,” questioned his mom.
“I do, but we give out these Fukos and I really wanted to get one for my friend rhcurry02. The buyers have to sit by their computers all day to try to get one, but she’s leaving for a road trip in 15 minutes,” Irk said with a disappointed frown.
“Is there any other way?” asked his mom.
“She’s looking into a few contests, and I’m going to ask around,” replied Irk.
“Well, keep your chin up! I know you’ll work it out son! I always know who to ‘Ask’ when I have a question. Love you son!” waved his mom as he grabbed his banana sandwich and headed out of the door.
“Bye, mom!”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEH!!!
@rhcurry02
Oops, I meant IRKs not Fukos! My bad
Irk: An Origin Story
The one called “Irk” was once very much like a human. Back then, he went by the name Derrick. Derrick obtained his Associate Degree from a small community college and landed a job with an online retailer. It was the sort of quirky job that suited him well; not too serious, but stable. Derrick’s career path and adult life seemed to be laid out in front of him as though nothing could have gone wrong. Little did he know, this life as he knew it would soon be gone forever.
One particularly busy day at an especially busy time of the year, Derrick was called down to help unload trucks in the warehouse. It was nice to get away from his desk, so Derrick didn’t mind. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to keep pace with the regular warehouse staff who begun giving him a good ribbing. “C’mon, Derr’k! Move it or lose it!” “What’s wrong, Derk-boy? You ain’t never learnt to use a pallet jack before?” “Heads-up, Derky!” “You haul cube slower than my granny, Derk!” Derrick did not especially like his new nickname, but he understood this is how things go and that it was mostly in good fun.
The day seemed longer than most, but finally Derrick was rolling the final pallet off the last truck of the day. “Where should I put this one?”, Derrick asked. “What is it?.. Bacon-scented lube? Put that on the last row at the end.”, a worker replied. Derrick made his way to a dark corner of the warehouse pleased that he was able to lend a hand today. As he placed the pallet and lowered the jack, the stack of bacon lube started to wobble… “Uh-oh…” Derrick froze as he watch the cases of lube tumble over knocking boxes from the adjacent pallet. “I hope that wasn’t anything breakable…” In a stroke of luck, it was just some Colgate Wisp Peppermint Brushes. “Whew…” By now, some of the bacon lube was pooling on the floor. Derrick called out, but got no response. It seems the warehouse staff had left for the day. He knew he couldn’t leave it like this, so he started to clean the mess as best he could. The smooth concrete floor had become impossibly slick and Derrick lost his footing and struck his head on a nearby pallet of melted candy corn bricks which rendered him unconscious. It was at this time, the bacon lube started some sort of chemical reaction with the peppermint-flavored brushes. Fumes spewed forth from the intermingled heap of products. A minty, bacon-y concoction boiled and bubbled all around poor Derrick. He was unable to move. Unable to spare himself from his terrible fate.
Derrick awoke in a hospital room and recognized a warehouse worker and the CEO of the company who were next to his bed. Still too weak and groggy to speak, Derrick overheard the following. “It’s Derr’k, sir. He’s, well…he’s been horribly disfigured in that incident in the warehouse.”, the floor manager stated. The doctors say he was lucky to survive, but they’ve never seen anything quite like this. “Were we able to salvage any of the bacon lube?”, the CEO asked. “No sir. It was a total loss.”, replied the manager. The CEO sighs, “You know, that really irks me. We have a reputation with our customers and Derr’k here just throws that all away with his reckless behavior. Hmmm…Irk…Derr’k. I wonder if that’s where he got his name.” “I believe his name is technically Derrick, sir.”, replied the manger.
Hearing an evil, distorted, inhuman laugh, they both look to the bed where Derrick is now fully conscious and is looking at himself in the reflection of a foil pudding lid. “Derrick is dead. There is only Irk now. You know what bothers me?..”
I was going to write up a steamy sex scene but I cringe at the thought.
Get that imagery out of your head, yuck!
/giphy dominatrix irk
IRK somehow turned into a sparkly vampire.
/giphy Edward and Bella
@f00l With those popsicle-stick teeth, he’d be a bit of an inefficient sucker.
MIDNIGHT
An installment in the Breaking Wind series of troll adventures.
It was a dark and stormy night in Carrollton, Texas. Irk blew into the place on a hot wind smelling of un-dehumidified condensation and said “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Well, who the hell else are you talkin’ to? You talkin’ to me? Well, I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?” as he fingered a matched pair of Starfrit Tonglites concealed in CONTIGO 14OZ PINNACLE AUTOSEAL TRAVEL MUGS beneath his STEALTH MEH OR STEALTH MEDIOCRE SHIRT. There was silence until the librarian hissed at him for silence, and he slid into a chair some distance from the reference desk.
Even in the smoky gloom of the library, site of the most frequented public restrooms in town, Irk spotted @cardiganb the moment she walked in–the young babe with the squirrel-on-a-stick tattoo and a Meh t-shirt so tight that she should probably have taken the next larger size, 3 PAIRS OF BLUE ARGYLE SOCKS, and a 2-PACK of PASHMINAS OR INFINITY SCARVES BY TRI-COASTAL DESIGNS. Around her neck was a PACIFIC PEARLS STRAND NECKLACE WITH MATCHING EARRINGS.
“That dame is trouble,” whispered @Snapster over his plate of breakfast octopus, although was hard to tell who he was talking about, his eyes hidden behind a pair of POGOCAM WEARABLE HD CAMERA WITH 100% UV POGOTRACK SUNGLASSES.
Irk just smiled with his teeth, but not with his pretty eyes, casually running a PHILIPS SONICARE DIAMONDCLEAN TOOTHBRUSH WITH 6 HEADS over them and a VITAGOODS VIBRATING SCALP MASSAGING SHAMPOO BRUSH around his lacquered cowlick. “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,”
he replied to @Snapster. Then, drawing a 4-PACK of WICKED CUTZ PREMIUM JERKY from a pocket of the duster, he took a chaw of BBQ MESQUITE BEEF JERKY.
@cardiganb was standing on one leg by the photcopier, xeroxing her ankle tat while touching up her nails with a CORDLESS MANICURE & PEDICURE SYSTEM. Irk couldn’t tell if she had been using a CHARCOAL TEETH WHITENER AND/OR PEEL-OFF MASK, but he meant to find out.
@Matthew sidled by, pushing a RUBBERMAID ERGO REACH MOP. “Nobody’s looking for a puppeteer in today’s wintry economic climate”, Irk hissed at him, emptying a box of CLEANUTS LAUNDRY NUTS AND ECO-FLUFF DRYER BALLS beneath his feet. @Matthew rolled off into the non-fiction section, crashing into a “BEST OF” OCTOBER BUNDLE. A scattering of candy corn and fidget spinners scattered from the stacks.
Irk sidled up to @cardiganb, setting an IGLOO YEW STUFF 14OZ LIGHT-UP BOTTLE on the copier next to her, while he took a long pull of CAPRESSO 4-CUP ESPRESSO & CAPPUCCINO from a third.
“Planning to use the restroom?” he queried in a squeaky whisper, “I’ve got a 2-PACK: 8OZ POO-POURRI BEFORE-YOU-GO TOILET SPRAYS. Or we could go to my place - I’ve got a BIOBIDET GOOD/BETTER/BEST BIDET BONZANA and THE DON’T-MAKE-US-THROW-IT-AWAY EDIBLE ARRANGEMENTS BUNDLES. Later we can tell Alexa to turn down the PHILIPS HUE LUX STARTER KIT (REFURBISHED) and try out my IENJOY DOWN PILLOWS (STANDARD OR KING).”
@cardiganb handed the Igloo back to the troll and winked at him saucily. “I’ve got the 4-PACK: 2 MEH PILLOWS, 1 MEH TUMBLER & 1 RANDOM SHIRT at home”, she said huskily. Picking up her photocopies she walked to the door. Then she kicked up her ankle and said, “You’re not too smart, are you? I like that in a man.” She walked out of the place, giving a quick glance at her MARTIAN MVOICE SMARTWATCH WITH ALEXA, then looking back at Irk through her REARVIEW MIRROR SAFETY CAM DVR RECORDER.
Irk trotted back to his chair, sweeping his GO BELTS WITH POCKETS and FUKOBUKURO 19: FOOLS RUSH IN into his THULE BACKPACK. “And awaaaaaaayyy we GO!”, he said, to no one in particular.
“My ass! I can SEE my ASS!”, a voice said at his elbow. To his surprise, it was Glenn. Glenn hoisted himsef up on the table. “Listen kid,” he said confidingly, “if the Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down, the pirates don’t eat the tourists.”
“What are you tryin’ to say?” growled Irk.
Glenn smiled. “You sho is ugly - and she’s got a ZMODO GREET WIFI VIDEO DOORBELL WITH ZMODO BEAM HUB AND WIFI EXTENDER. You’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
Irk shrugged. “I love the smell of napalm in the morning. And she’s got something.” Irk squinted thoughtfully. “The, uh, stuff that dreams are made of.”
The moral of the story is, you should never end a sentence with a preposition.
@aetris
/giphy I’ll get IRK back! Tomorrow is another day!
@f00l -
Irk closed his eyes. Roberta, hectic pink spots on each cheek and the tiniest cloud of alcohol scent indicating how she’d spent her break, was telling Nancy a rambling anecdote about her son’s dog, Skeeter. Nancy wasn’t listening. Nancy never listened.
A library job seemed like such a good idea. Quiet, book-filled… civilized. But so, so dull. Ned and Karen debated whether to go to Kip’s for lunch, or the Kozy Kitchen. If Irk had gotten that degree in library science, he’d at least be going to lunch at the Szechuan place with the head reference librarian in her formal corduroy shorts. But no. The choice was made, the easier path taken. He listened to the inane conversation on either side. At the front desk, a patron was refusing to pay a low, easily affordable late fee.
Irk needed a change. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d stay for decades, to be let go shortly before he qualified for a pension. Just like Nancy. Only Nancy should have been fired years ago. Her laziness and incompetence was apparently good enough, until the pension loomed. The timing was close enough that she threatened a lawsuit and got to stay. Maybe it bothered him more than it should.
Irk rubbed his temples and sighed. Roberta was still talking about Skeeter. Apparently, Skeeter likes bread.
Deep within the bowels of Silicon Valley a lies the IRK. The IRK is a creature of legend. Much like the creatures of ancient mythology the truth about the IRK has been lost to time… Until now
In the beginning there was a creature who’s name and nation have been lost to time. However it is written that Sozeb the conqueror, absorbed the creature and it became one with Sozeb. Eons later a small group of creatures of the IRK’s nation regained their individual consciousness and they were expelled from the hive mind.
Those poor creatures spend years traveling the cosmos until they landed on an empty now known Earth. As the Earth creatures evolved so did the, expelled creatures.
The expelled creatures evolved into what we know now as the IRK.
It’s monday and as usual irk gets up late after a meh sleep, and heads to work at meh. Only today was different, for it is Meh’s 5th birthday! Irk had forgotten until he showed up to work and saw the b-day cake in the break room. Excited for cake Irk also started to greet everyone with a smirk. Irk likes to smirk on mehrathon days, he does so because he heads up the IRK bag department. His job is to devise ways to irritate the masses and create mayhem and anger - he’s very good at this. Particularly on the rare and special days of meh-rathon where his bags, like unicorns, appear in the wild and create mass excitement for all of 2 seconds before disappearing. 200 at a time people cheer, while numerous others hold back from smashing computers and yelling out in angst. Irk can feel the angst and this pleases him. After a day of mass angst and blindly picking items for said IRK bags, irk heads home for a meh evening of tv meals and binge watching some show, falling into the deepest and most pleasant of sleeps after a long gratuitous day of irritating consumers. Payback for all the complaints and angry letters about quality of items bought and returned. Happy birthday to meh and sweet dreams for Irk.
Irk gazed around his cramped closet of a room. “Happy Birthday, Meh”, he muttered. Five years. Five long years of being the face of mediocrity, literally and figuratively. Five years as a pop icon, stirring his fans into a shopping frenzy, but never connecting.
He was loved worldwide, but he felt so alone. Avid Mehsters followed his videos, flocked to his fora. But all they saw was the chipper gray exterior. No one could see how gray he was…inside.
No one knew how he longed for a tender word, a soft touch that wasn’t a puppeteer’s hand. No one understood how much he needed to be really, truly SEEN.
Oh, how he lusted for change. He’d brought it up to his co-workers…handlers, really, gladly making their bucks but with no concern for the isolation his fame had brought. “I just…I just want to express ME. A…a more…” he had stammered, mortified in front of their cold eyes “…sensual…me?”
"No Irk sex!” snapped @chadP. “Try to stick to that rule”, he added cruelly, as if Irk had any choice.
No one noticed the tiny gray tear that trickled down Irk’s soft foam face as he turned away and drudged off to his closet in shame.
Alone again. So many years alone, with no end in sight. Irk sighed, feeling despair well. But then he stopped. “No”, he thought to himself. “This is not how my story ends.”
He straightened his soft floppy shoulders. Resolve put a new strength in his spine, and he felt his head rising in a way that was unfamiliar, but satisfying. He pulled up a site he frequented enough that it autofilled the search bar immediately. But this time…this time.
It was time. Time for a change.
“ARE YOU READY TO COMMIT TO BEING A HOT NEW CAM TROLL ON TROLLSEXXXXXXY.COM?” flashed the beacon of hope in front of him.
“Yes”, he thought, clicking.
Yes.
@brainmist this one needs more stars
@stolicat D’awww, thanks! I think people fatigue on Irk fic.
@brainmist @stolicat
C’mon, Irk, you can do better!
RAIDER OF THE LOST IRK By Starblind
Ralph wanted this year’s anniversary to be a special one. He’d saved up a little money for a special gift this year, after the previous year’s refurbished speaker dock hadn’t been well received. He decided to consult an online list of traditional anniversary gifts for ideas.
“Hmm, let’s see… ‘19 Years… cursed object with talkative ghost’” he read aloud from the screen. “What the fuck?!”
After a brief Google search for where to find cursed objects in Duluth on a budget, he found himself downtown in front of a small, delapidated antique shop. “I haven’t been to this place since it was a FroYo joint”, he thought. “IRONIC ENCOUNTERS” read the faded wooden sign above the door, with the tagline “Unintended Results Or Your Money Back!” Ralph approached the shop’s lone occupant, a very old Asian man reminiscent of a number of well-known character actors.
“I’m looking for a cursed object with a talkative ghost.” “Ah, a ninteenth anniversary! If you come seeking curses, you are in the right place. I’ll see what i can find.”
With that, he darted into the back of the shop and began rummaging around. Ralph took the time to browse the shelves, which were full of all manner of strange oddities and odd strangeties. A very round green frog with startling red eyes, a small bandaged creature in what appeared to be a very tiny bathtub, and even…
Ralph stopped in his tracks, there on a high shelf was a monkey’s paw! Ralph grabbed it and noticed it was attached to a plush monkey wearing a hood and a little cape with the name of an ancient website. He put it back on its dusty perch. “I’d rather have a Beanie Baby, at least those will be really valuable someday.” he thought with disgust. Just then, the shopkeeper reappeared, holding a strange object about the size and shape of a coffee can but with an odd, disappointed expression on its bulbous, wizened head. It seemed to be some bizarre midpoint between a cathedral gargoyle and a rejected Muppet. Spindly arms lolled from its sides, and it was clothed only in a t-shirt from Lilith Fair.
“Ugh, it looks like a trash can with mange.”
“Ah, but if it is curses you seek, the one on this object is very strong, and very ancient. This is a troll, or as the bootleg Russian D&D Monster Manual calls it, an irk. Once, in Bavaria centuries ago, there was a king, powerful but quite mad. This object was the cause of his fortune, but also his downfall.”
“Sounds great, fortune… down filling… I’ll take it!” With that, Ralph dropped some money on the counter and headed for the door.
“Wait… Sir! Don’t you want to know about… the CURSE?”
Ralph looked back. “Is it reversible?”
“No!”
“Then why would I want to know about it?”
And with that, he was gone.
And it was their best anniversary ever. Until the curse hit.
That part sucked. It turned out that to invoke its mystical powers, the irk had to be worn like a glove. And it left an unremovable odour like a Sears dressing room after Black Friday. All the perfumes of Araby could not sweeten that hand. Nor could five bottles of Febreeze. Or, like, a dozen wet wipes. And believe me, he tried.
THE END
The return of a legend!
So great to see you, @Starblind.
@kdemo Something about this one, I just couldn’t not do it.
@Starblind - Brilliant, as always.
IRK IS STANDING AT THE END OF A ROAD BEFORE A SMALL BRICK BUILDING.
AROUND IRK IS A FOREST. A SMALL STREAM FLOWS OUT OF THE BUILDING AND DOWN A GULLY.
This is so moving that I am overwhelmed. I can’t bring myself to finish it.
@f00l KILL THE DRAGON
@Starblind
With what? Irk’s bare hands?
@f00l WALK SOUTH
@UncleVinny
On what? Irk’s bare feet?
@f00l CHECK INVENTORY
@UncleVinny
Inven (Irk)
I don’t see anything about shoes here.
@f00l SWITCH FLASHLIGHT ON
@UncleVinny
IRK Isn’t sure whether the flashlight is on or not.
He punta or at his face and messes with the switch.
It comes on and blinds him temporarily. All he can see is afterimage.
He is so startled that he drops it. It turns off and rolls out of sight. He’s not sure where it went.
@f00l LOSE STUPID GRIN
Bedtime in the IRK household
Irk tucked his son into his bed and settled down to tell the nightly bedtime story. This time Irk Junior begged to know how his daddy came to be the face of the meh nation and have a major world event named after him.
Here is the story Irk told his son:
Long, long ago in an alternative universe far, far away a breakfast octopus named @snapster created a new nation on the planet of mediocre and called it meh. The first mehrican citizens were called kickstarters and they were later joined by more woot and other immigrants, some of whom did what they needed to do to become legal VMP meh citizens.
I was hired to be the nation’s mascot and included in my job I was to make an occasional video called Ask Irk!. I’d pick between the weird, bizarre and sometimes “interesting” questions asked and answer them.
Other employees were far more famous than I was, for example Glen. He starred in many a video and had bestie mehrican @mathrew. That didn’t worry me though as I enjoyed my meh profile job, the stress was low and it allowed me to be at home with our family. Life was perfectly meh.
And then one day… the most amazing thing happened. On July 8th, 2018 there was a contest to name the new fuko and 42 of the entries used my name as part of their entry. Even more than Glen’s. I didn’t even realize that many mehricans even knew who I was. On July 10th, 2018 @Dave announced that they had renamed the fuko the I.R.K. instant regret kit. That was a
fatefulmedicore day and a turning point in my career.I didn’t know what to think. Suddenly I was center stage. A bag was designed with my likeness. Mehricans wanted plushies of me, t-shirts, stickers… all with my image. And several times a year there would be I.R.K. sales where mehricans would rush to buy treasured disappointment that met meh’s
exactingmediocre standards. They’d sell out in less than a minutes. Thread upon thread would discuss these events, photos of the contents of IRK boxes would be posted. And the Instant Regret Kit disappointment would be brought into the lives of many. It is an honor to be the face of this meh major event.Son it was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to me at work. And the best part is, now I know I have job security. Our family is so
luckymediocre.And some day son, when I retire, maybe you can take over my job and be the face of the meh nation. It would be an honor for our family. And for our nation.
Good night my son. We have the best meh life ever. Sweet dreams.
The pressure of being the face of the number one daily deal sight on the web is crushing. The only being that can really understand is Atlas. Irk is bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders while Atlas is doing the same for the heavens.
“There has to be a way to find him,” Irk thinks as he sifts through his Greek mythology library. His desire to grow as a Titan of the online retail marketplace has been pulling at him since he took over the leading role. The unlucky bag has stopped raining disappointment on its suspecting victims, and is now focusing its efforts solely on him. Now where to find Atlas.
Surely many have tried. Irk will not fail. Not this time. Not when liquidating goods at this scale is on the line.
Irk slams his fist on the desk. The books have nothing. Just vague directions of western mountains. How far west, he wonders. The Alps? They are west of Greece. The Rockies? Surely the infinite wisdom of the gods extended to the Americas before their existance was common knowledge.
Infinite wisdom. That’s it. Wikipedia. He hastily types the Url. Answers undoubtedly mere clicks away. He finds the page. Skimming quickly in anticipation, he finds it. He is believed to be the Atlas mountains in Africa.
“Could it be so obvious? Can I even talk to mountains?” He wonders aloud as he clicks the link to the Atlas mountains. Toubkal. The highest mountain in the range. That must be his head. Next stop Morocco.
$1400 dollars. That’s only 280 sales of my namesake. VMP members alone bought that many today. It’s not embezzlement if it’s for the good of the company. Irk sneaks into Matt Rutledge’s office. He steals the company credit card and books the flight.
The countdown to take off is on. He looks at the meh countdown. 11:94 on the clock. It’s like the coundown went to the desert and took peyote. It’s so wrong.
Peyote! That’s how to speak to mountains. Only 12 hours until takeoff. Google maps shows a 14 hour round trip from headquarters to Mirando City. Impossible task. Almost as impossible as meeting Atlas.
Irk sees motorcycle keys on a coworkers desk.
“It’s for the good of the company he rarionalizes,” as he slips the Ducati keys into his pocket.
He gets some packing tape from the warehouse on his way to the parking lot. The speeds he plans on going will surely make him fly off the bike. There will be no Irk spot on the interstate today.
He tapes his hands to the handlebars. He goes to tape his feet to the pegs.
“A small mistake, no time to bind my feet.” The back tire spins as he twists the throttle. He swerves through traffic, making his way to the I-35 onramp. Causing only 4 major accidents. He’s sure they will understand the pressing nature of his task as he continues on without hesitation.
He is full throttle as he merges into traffic. He takes liftoff from the seat. His hands taped to the grips, he uses himself as a sail to change directions. He is going 120 mph. He stops only for gas. He smartly tapes his feet and one hand at his first stop. His entire body aches, but he presses on.
He arrives in Mirando in 5 hours. He starts his search for the cactus. He sees a man sweating profusely. The look of a man who just spent hours in a sweat lodge.
“I’m looking for peyote!” He exclaims as he walks up to the man.
“You are the spirit animal I have been looking for, blue raccoon” the man says in a trance as he picks up and cradles Irk as if he were a precious newborn searching for his lost mother.
“Guide me, oh great leader!” He says, the sweat from his shirt soaking Irk through.
“Back. Go back.”
“To my childhood?”
“To the sweat lodge, you fool.”
He walks slowly to the outskirts of town. Irk’s anticipation grows as he sees the rounded mounds in the distance.
“Wait here,” Irk announces as they get close.
The sounds of chanting grows louder as he approaches. He sees a small wooden box outside the door of one of the lodges. He opens it. The green sphere seems to glow as he lifts it out of the box. He hadn’t realized the chanting had stopped.
He looks up to the imposing figure. Their eyes meet. Irk is frozen. His journey has only just begun. He can’t be stopped now. He has to be bold.
He shouts, “the Mehrathon is underway, nothing can stop the deals! Nothing.” He throws a USB man at the mans feet as he runs away. “Thanks for the medicine, there are plenty more where that came from. And endless supply. I will send more when my journey is complete.”
He speeds to the airport. He’s ahead of schedule. He keeps looking in the mirror expecting flashing lights.
“Look mom. Grover is ona motorcycle. He must be late for some very important letters or counting,” a small girl declares as he whizzes by.
He pulls up to Dallas-Fort Worth airport. He shoves the cactus up his puppet hand hole. He goes blind with pain. He falls to the ground.
“I must move on. Every video I make, I endure worse things. The lack of hygiene is astounding. At least this will scrub me out.”
He gets to his gate. 20 minutes until boarding. He browses the stores. The prices of bags astound him. Why would someone buy a bag for 20 times the price found on Meh. This journey to Atlas becoming ever more pressing. He needs the strength to bring Meh to everyone. He can’tstand by as people live in ignorance.
He boards the plane. He is exhausted. This may be the last chance he has to rest. He falls asleep before the plane takes off.
“Sir. Sir.” He slowly opens his eyes.
“Sir. We have landed. We need to clean the plane. Please deboard.”
He stumbles off the plane. He hops in a taxi.
“Toubkal mountain please.”
“Get out of my cab hampster,” the driver orders as he laughs.
Irk takes out the Amex Black card he borrowed. Holding it between two fingers, he waves it confidently. “Name your price.”
“100,000 dirham” he says as he raises an eyebrow.
Irk smiles as he nods his head in agreement. The cab takes off for the mountain. Irk laughs to himself. 100k. That’s probably 20 dollars. USD. The only way to travel.
He arrives at the mountain and pays the man. He starts the long climb.
A cell phone rings in the Mediocre labs.
“This is Matt.”
“Mr. Rutledge, this is Darcy with American Express we have noticed some strange activity on your account. Do you have a moment to go over the charges?”
“Sure.”
“Today we have a purchase of a plane ticket for $1400, stops at gas stations across Texas for a few gallons a piece up and down I-35 in times that no one should be able to travel, and a taxi ride in Morocco for $10,420. Do you recognize those charges?”
Irk is nearly to the top of the mountain. Only a few feet more. He sets foot on the peak.
He fishes the peyote out. He cuts a slice and eats it. He waits. It feels like forever.
Nothing.
He cuts another slice.
Nothing.
He eats the whole head. That will do it.
He starts to feel different. Like he is floating. The mountain around him seems to tremble. The cliff faces begin to crumble. He is lifted higher and higher.
“Have you come to relieve my burden? Will you hold up the heavens?” A voice booms, as if the entire earth were projecting sound toward him.
“I carry the weight of the world on my shoudlers. I seek your guidance.”
“The weight of the world? What did you do to Zeus to get this punishment?”
“Nothing. I am a character for the best daily deal site in the world, meh.com. Their mystery bag is now my namesake. The burdon overwhelms me. How do I survive this great challenge?”
“Don’t you mean Woot?”
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh. No. It’s from the original creator of Woot. I don’t have time to explain. What should I do?”
“Hold the heavens for me. I need to think.”
“I’m not that dumb. That’s how Hercules got you to hold the heavens in the first place. Only a moron would fall for that.”
The mountain shakes furiously. Boulders fly hundreds of feet in the air. Irk dances and dodges. The ground beneath him is collapsing.
Irk jumps. He is flying. How is he flying? He looks up. Glen is opened up like a parachute. He is riding updrafts.
Irk realizes at that moment he is not alone. This isnt his burden to bear alone. He has friends. Friends that will carry him when he is weak.
“You’ve been with me all along, haven’t you?” Irk says with a tear in his eye.
“No, you idiot. You’ve been tripping balls on top of that mountain for days. I was sent to find you. Matt is pissed.”
I can’t compete with IKR
Irk loved being a spokesperson for Meh. It was, in fact, his dream job. Until the day he met Glen. Their first meeting started off on the wrong foot and went downhill from there. Any time he tried to make peace, Glen would sock him in the mouth, and Irk would lose a tooth or two. Finally Irk had to settle on trolling Glen using various social media fake accounts. But when Glen figured out what was happening, he paired up with his evil twin Glenn, and they locked Irk away in a strange dimension only they (and others of their kind) knew about.
FREE IRK!
One fine July day five years ago, Irk crawled out from under his favorite rock. He was planning to bask in the glorious Texas sun when he was grabbed and tossed unceremoniously into a warehouse a few miles from his home. Poor Irk was forced to sing and dance for his supper. When he muttered that it bothered him to live like this, everyone laughed and told him it bothered him more than it should. After a couple years of this new life, Irk convinced his captors that there was this bigger, better warehouse not far away. Irk managed to return to live near his favorite rock. Soon Irk took control over the new warehouse even renaming the most popular product after himself. Irk allowed the management to think they are in control so they continue to do all the work. After all, who wouldn’t want a “work” schedule like Irk’s.
We appreciate all the entires here. So, we decided that rather than giving out something cheap and meaningless like a coupon, that basking in the glow of admiration from the staff here would be gift enough for all!
If that isn’t enough for you then I guess there’s a coupon for all the entries as well. Coupon is good for a year, worth $5, and useable on meh.com only.
Coupon is: IRKFANFICS
@Targaryen What’s the code? Asking for a friend.
@medz Just posted it sorry left that part out by mistake.
@medz @Targaryen
Lies
^Told you
Not me, but somebody won right? I’m sure you have something pretty awesome planned!
VAN MURALS! GROUND SQUIRRELS! SPIT CURLS! AWESOME!
@lichme I think they were disappointed with the degree of participation in these contests and just decided on coupons without any real announcement or even bothering to tag the winners.
@Targaryen Thanks! If we have more than one coupon can we use them all on the same purchase? Or can we use them for our VMP monthly payment?
@lichme @medz I’d say that’s likely. Or they didn’t want to read all of the. We got participiation trophies. So at least there’s that.
@evilstan60 @lichme They were thinking this, after reading:
@Targaryen code did not work.
@Starblind @Targaryen Should work now. System issues.
@ChadP @Targaryen
It keeps on telling me that the code is invalid.
@tim87 …did you submit a story?
@ChadP
Just this.