Fatilla (parody of Thriller)

[Drassil]

Queen has been one of the most popular choices for songfics in this thread. Good to see Knightmare songfic debuts from members old and new.

And now, in time for Hallowe'en, a reworking of one of Michael Jackson's most celebrated hits: Thriller.

It's close to teatime, and something evil's lurking on the path
Near 'ooh nasty' time, you hear a grunt that almost stops your heart
You try to scream, but Treguard tells you not to be so noisy
You start to freeze, as squalor looks you right between the horns
Then he just yawns

'Cause it's Fatilla, Fatilla right
And who is gonna save you from the brute about to strike?
You know Fatilla, Fatilla right
You're questing for your life beside a big Fatilla tonight

Your three advisors are wondering just what he's gonna do
You sense the large club, and wonder if you'll get to Level Two
You close your eyes and wonder why his name's so very corny
But all the while you fear that he will turn you into chops
With blips and blops

'Cause it's Fatilla, Fatilla right
There ain't no seventh chance against the thing of enormous size
You know Fatilla, Fatilla right
You're questing to survive beside a big Fatilla tonight

He's Michael Cule and when he's not Fatilla he's Brother Mace
All of the teams will escape the barbarian each time
It's so easy it's a crime

He will not like you, he wants to stop you climbing in the well
But his low IQ will help you get away with lies you tell
This is the day to use your wits or items... or there's Pickle
So many ways of getting past the hulking hungry hun
You'll find it fun

'Cause it's Fatilla, Fatilla right
And he won't chill you more than any ghost who would dare to try
You know Fatilla, Fatilla right
So seek to be a knight and pass a filler, diller, swiller
Fatilla - he's not light...

[...And so on.

And now for the Vincent Price 'rap'. Which isn't all that different from Treguard's rhyming recaps, when you think about it...]

Teatime falls across the land
The Knightmare hour is close at hand
Children watch with curtains drawn
With family, friends, or all forlorn
And whomsoever there might be
That dares to flick to BBC
Shall have a Friday dull as hell
And freeze along with time-out bell

The foulest stench is in the air
A hun who hasn't washed for years
And, dumb as when he left the womb
He's standing guard at Fort of Doom
And though you're fighting not to laugh
Your lip will start to quiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The humour of Fatilla