The little man stands there, body singed black in a cartoon-esque fashion.

Then he turned into a pile of ash. Again he poofs back nearby, and checks his forehead to see if his eyebrows were still there, and finds that they are. He glares and retreats back into the woods. He returns with 5 undead ghouls, all of them with snazzy fedoras, one of them with a baseball bat, another with a chain. The rest were slowly approaching, snapping their fingers to a suave jazz tune.