Bar, Floss, Engage Youth Pastor

(shrouded in silence...I believe the initial sounds shall have gradually faded by this scene. Perhaps coming to a complete halt upon this scene's beginning--per capita by the medicine chorus, of course)

After 5-8 seconds of staring stedfastedly at the old man, who as we previously know has been stung sleepy drunk by the mitt of a dead snake, the silence breaks with a sudden dainty chorus of a birdsong. This bird song shall last a 2 cadence duration, approximately 5 seconds apiece, for a cumulative bout of 10 seconds or so. The second cadence shall be intermittently interuppted with a scratchy, chiding, dare I say improprietous, amount of static--probably tantamount to the static originally heard upon play's opening [source unknown--Cuba?]

Further silence pervades the stage upon the birdsong's ending. The static has by now become a delicate and susurrous murmur. Suddenly, the man clad in black has grown into an appreciative grin, as if remembering a time of past luminescence; this countenance purveys the panorama (This delicatessen shall chafe one-half course).

The old man now attunes himself to a bout of lumbar activity--posturing upward from his supine barber haul. The Old Man's face, at first rise a stone-etching (poignantly stoic, unmoved), shall turn toward the audience (by this time the Man in Black has walked a bit up center stage and has thusly unobscured any ocular path to the Old Man) and evolve as if fluidly separating the fog before him. This Old Man has seen the workings of his spell. The Man in Black has now caught to turning back afore his board whiskers to spy upon the Old Man. As if slightly suprised to see his spell work in such a hasty manner, he dusts his mitts together with a sheepish grin as the Old Man lay half-risen before him. The Old Man now firmly delighted, with legs aground, still peers outwardly with a dumbstruck gaze.

MIB: "Warden it's a cloth hamper!"
Old Man: "Don't get any ideas, bark fetus, it's a gasp in the afterlife and I haven't any raft!"
MIB: "Smite you, old bag, or I'll pound this serpent atop that skull of yours...again."
Old Man: (angrily) "The boy...where's that boy! I'll show him my burl. I'll carress his wages with a cassowary." The man suddenly searches feverishly for his rifle
MIB: " I don't imagine there'll be much of anything if you shant reprieve yourself from torah loan minkled on test lano flint. (the old man snarls angrily at the MIB) (MIB as if to settle the wits about the bugger) Rise you mitten hawk! I've a parlay to merge with your floundering about these ropes."
Old Man: "Rise, you say. Rise! Rise!" (coughs gingerly) "I've seen a few prideful revolutions in my days, I've seen a few 10 car parades. Don't get any ideas (turns with a sniggering grin) or I'll climb right on up there...right on up one of those ropes." (begins to laugh to himself).