The Ballad of My Best Friend, Paul Proteus

Day 1,977, 16:15 • Published in USA USA • by Jakov Mikhailovich

Gather around my children and hear the tale of Paul Proteus, eRepublik’s folk hero.



A lone stick of dynamite knocked up a maid
She twitched on the ground in the crater she laid.
Nine months later she labored in birth
Of the coolest dude ever on the face of the Earth.
The fatherless prince of fierce detonation,
Paul Proteus sought a man’s coronation.
Though all alone, his father’d blown town,
He picked up the skyline and made it his crown.
Who doesn’t know his litany of deeds,
This explosion of a man, TNT’s seed?
When he set out to prove there’s none adepter,
He grasped a might redwood and made it his scepter.




His quest begins in a place now forgotten,
A land corrupted, by tyranny made rotten.
The king of this land was a monster indeed.
He ruled through the premise of hate, lust, and greed.
He supported all the bad stuff like slavery and smoking,
But had he’d known in Paul’s grasp he’d one day be choking,
He’d have turned from his ways and started a church
Or built homes for kittens from ash wood and birch.
By night, Paul marched to the dark king’s fell keep
And knocked on the door and roused him from sleep.
Paul made his demands and made the king listen,
And by nervous sweat the king set to glisten.
“Free all your slaves and buy me a Coke,
Build a hot springs for the lepers to soak,
Go kiss a kitten, adopt a city street,
Stop taxing the shoes on the poor peasant’s feet,
And when they ask, ‘Why lightly do you tread so?’
You just tell them, ‘Cuz Paul Proteus said so!’”
Paul Proteus gave him just three days to comply,
Or thusly the dark king would fo shizzle die.
Paul took his redwood to wait by the ocean
To see if the king would grant Paul his motion.



But the king refused to quit being smarmy,
So instead he raised up a great, royal army.
Even now from the castle they sally
To meet Paul in the base of a valley.
They rush forth ‘tween the walls of the canyon
And Paul Proteus fights with reckless aband…yon?
He kicks like lightning, his punches sound thunder.
A thousand men Paul’s fists put under.
Paul Proteus, half-man, half-explosion,
Carves the valley deeper than eons of erosion.
By the end of the day, the canyon fills with blood.
Paul Proteus brooks no one’s, not nobody’s crud.
He swims from the bloody gore thick and sappy,
And you can just bet he isn’t too happy.



He heads to the castle, a man on a mission.
He dreams of all the pain he’ll be dishin’.
At the castle, he blows down the gate
With concentrated waves of malice and hate.
The guards try to seize him, but they slump and die
With one glare from Paul’s menacing eye.
Paul Proteus stands before evil’s throne
(Camera wide pan, the score plays a somber tone).
“Please,” begs the king, “Show me some mercy!”
“Mercy shmercy,” says Paul, “let me call you a hearse-y.”
As finishing lines go, that one was the turds,
But Paul Proteus believes actions are louder than words.
With a gator jaw grip, he grasps the king’s throat,
And just for good measure, a kick to the scrot’.
He squeezes away the tyrant’s last breath
And drags him, panting, to the shade trees of death.



So Paul Proteus freed all of the slaves,
Defeated a tyrant, escaped some close shaves.
The prince crowned with skyline walked to the sunset
And drank the golden rays, yes, all he could get.
He then sat and wondered, “What adventures await?”
(It all depends on how many votes this tale rates).

Some final loose ends are left untie😛
Who was Paul’s father? Who the dark king that died?
The king may surprise you and leave you aghast.
It was none other than King Pfeiffer The Last.
And Paul Proteus’s sire, that dynamite stick?
‘Twas only yours truly, Jakov Mikhailovich.