“…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.

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.

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?!?

“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…!!!

Tina is my role model.

“Please, no Irk sex.” I feel like I should say that. Try to stick to that rule.

Does that include foreplay?

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 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.

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.”

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

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.

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

Rule or guideline?

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.

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.

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?..”

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 fateful medicore 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 exacting mediocre 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 lucky mediocre.

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.

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?’”

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.

Uhhh … No sex in the fanfic … Hmmm…

Ok

Irk f***** itself.

Or something.

/giphy I don’t fucking know. Ok?

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.