[A long arm pokes out of the bush, salt canister in-hand. Henry isn't fucking around here, it's all or nothing. None of that piddly little salt shaker business. Slowly. Sloooowly. He starts to tip the can and the salt sprinkles out. Then the lid falls off and ALL of it falls onto poor Fat Stanley in a cloud.]
[action]
[There is a lot of horrified coo-ing.]
GRAB HIM!