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This is sung by the foremost survivors on a Call of Cthulu(tm) world:
Frances Frazetta soprano, D. Lawrence Day (D-Day) bass, Zachariah Kane sort of tenor — when he sings, Michael WhiteWolf on chant and drums, and the denizens of Shadow Chasers on whatever they trip over. This usually comes about after one too many trips to the library to attempt to read the Chinese translation of the Pancrotic manuscripts. . .

On the first day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
a shoggath masquerading as a tree

On the second day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the third day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the fourth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree

On the fifth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the sixth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
six cultists lurking (the singers are beginning to look around at the shadows warily at this point)
five byaki (bewy melodious)
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the seventh day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the eighth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
eight deep ones creeping
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the ninth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
nine old ones sleeping
eight deep ones creeping
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the tenth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
ten victims screaming
nine old ones sleeping
eight deep ones creeping
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the eleventh day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
eleven ghouls a digging
ten victims screaming
nine old ones sleeping
eight deep ones creeping
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

On the twelfth day of Cthulhu the shambler brought to me
twelve mi-go flying (hmmm, too much wassail, mi-go don't fly, they have coldsticks) (Frances, shut up)
eleven ghouls a digging
ten victims screaming
nine old ones sleeping
eight deep ones creeping
seven spectral haunters
six cultists lurking
five byaki
four falling idols
three evil priests
two wavy daggers
and a shoggath masquerading as a tree.

"Hey! Get your pseudopods off the tree."

"Wait a minute! Where'd that night gaunt come from???"

"Kane!!!! Where's the juju stick N'Longa gave your great-grandfather??????"

[Sounds of battle.]

POLICE PRECINCT, NIGHT

From behind CAMERA: We're here with Det. Tracy Vetter to play the 'Are You As Hip As You Think You Are?' Quiz from A_N. All right Tracy, are you ready?

TRACY: (chewing gum and blowing bubbles) Sure!

CAMERA: First question, Metallica is:
A. A type of fabric that rusts in the wash
B. A newly discovered ore
C. A Heavy Metal band

TRACY: (thinks a bit until smoke comes from her ears and...) I'm a good cop!

CAMERA: Ahh, yes Ms. Vetter, You're a good officer now please answer the question.

TRACY: (brightly) I'm a good cop!

CAMERA: All right, we'll cut this out.

TRACY: (shouting, sing-song) I'mmm aaa gooood cooo-

>>static<<

RADIO STATION, NIGHT

CAMERA: We're now with Lucien LaCroix, also known as the Nightcrawler, who has kindly agreed to play the 'Are You As Hip As You Think You Are? Quiz from A_N.' Isn't that right sir?

LC: (steely gaze)

CAMERA: Err... yes... well why don't we start?

>LC: (steely gaze)

CAMERA: Yes then... The Spice Girls are:
A. From the makers of Mrs. Dash
B. A midnight snack
C. A girl band from the U.K.

LC: (steely gaze) Yeesssssss.

CAMERA: Sir?

LC: (steely gaze)

CAMERA: I'll just let myself out now...

LC: (steely gaze with a little glance at the CAMERA person's neck area) (licks lips)

Camera drops and screaming can be heard...

>>static<<

>end excerpt<

Pass me the Raybans please...

The neon green grass was starting to give one of the assassins a throbbing headache. "Does the bloody stuff have to be so *green*?" he muttered to his partner, rubbing his watering eyes. His fellow assassin, his facial scar hidden behind trendy darkglasses, rolled his eyes and passed the first man a pair of Raybans .

The two leather and metal clad figures trotted quickly amongst the strange hip-height flowers that dotted the pastel coloured landscape. They had a brief pause to grab a couple of the ubiquitous bunny rabbits for lunch and then continued on to their destination.

Coming to a small dip in the rolling hills, they dropped to their stomachs and crawled forward until they could see the silver dome shaped building that was home to the marks they had been paid to be rid of. Of course, the one assassin, supplier of the Raybans , otherwise known as Kronos of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, slayer of thousands, would happily have put the targets out of their misery for free, if only to observe the resulting chaos their demise would cause.

Kronos loved chaos. It added spice to his rather, at present, boring life. Now the bronze age had been *fun*, if you didn't mind the smell of blood or death, which he rather liked. He sighed, squinting slightly as he lifted his shades to scratch at the long vivid scar that crossed his right eye. Today, though, you couldn't kill a few thousand people without causing outcries from those bloody human-rights people. Add to that the fact that there really wasn't much he hadn't done in over 4 millennia worth of life.

Caspian (the other assassin and fellow member of the horsemen) swung his crossbow round from his back, where it had been hanging and set it neatly on the ground. He pulled out four crossbow bolts from his backpack. Wriggling back down the hill a bit, so as not to be seen by their targets, he braced the butt of the crossbow between his knees. Grunting, he winched the string back and quickly put in the pin, before it could go off and take his fingers with it. Expertly cocking the trigger, he turned the crossbow over and placed a black-feathered bolt gently into the groove.

Caspian eased back up the hill and set the crossbow down. Kronos eyed the weapon. "Black feathers, brother?"

Caspian raised a questioning eyebrow, causing the black designs on his forehead to shift around.

"Isn't that rather cliched?" Kronos asked his fellow mass murderer.

Caspian shrugged, "I didn't make them, and that's what our employer wanted me to use."

Kronos sighed. Their "employer", as Caspian put it, was... he shook his head. 'Weird girl' was a good enough description for the horseman's mind to make of her. Although she did have an evil imagination. When she'd outlined her plan to him, he couldn't refuse. Of course the flame thrower she was aiming at him at the time did help him decide. He grinned. This might actually turn out to be interesting.

The door to the silver domicile opened and a pear-shaped figure emerged, "la la la"-ing for all it was worth. Caspian sited along the crossbow and waited until the maniacally dancing figure was out of viewing range of anyone who might be standing in the doorway. There was a soft <*Thwick*> sound and the first of their targets dropped dead, a crossbow bolt buried to the feathers in its overlarge head.

Kronos kept watch whilst Caspian quickly reloaded the crossbow. A few silent minutes later, another, slightly taller round-bodied figure emerged. It "Eh oh"-ed enquiringly a couple of times, trying to see where its fellow nuisance had gone.

Caspian tilted his head and moved the tip of the crossbow slightly as a breeze picked up. He compensated for the wind a bit more. The distant figure bounced around the far side of the silver dome. Caspian was a patient man, and waited for the figure to emerge from the other side, aligning his crossbow accordingly.

The portly shape waddled around the corner and tripped over the corpse of its fallen friend. It stood to its feet and stared in incomprehension at the body. <*Thwick*> It was trying to figure out what to do when the bolt hit it side on, pinning it to the wall.

Kronos grinned and slapped his brother on the back. "Great shot."

Caspian reloaded the crossbow and shrugged. "Could have been better."

When no other occupants of the domicile were forthcoming, the two horsemen decided to wonder down and try and find them. They met the third one as it came out, presumably to find the missing and now deceased, other two.

<*Thwick*>

Caspian bent down to inspect his handy work. He eyed the bolt placement clinically, then nodded in satisfaction.

Inside the domicile, the last target (unbeknownst to it of course) went to answer the knock on the door. The chubby mitten like hand hit the open button and Tinkie-winkie, the last surviving Teletubby(tm), opened the door and found death (well, actually famine, technically) squinting down the shaft of a crossbow.

"Eh oh?"

<*Thwick*>