"Don't fool around with my nurse. She's a nice girl. She's a Virginian."

"A what?"

"A Virginian. That's where she's from."

"Well, she ain't going back, I can tell you that."

Neil Simon's 1970's Broadway hit comedy, "The Sunshine Boys," takes us back to the vaudeville era in the persons of two aged comedians who've hated each other for years but agree to team up once more for a television special. It's an opportunity for good character work and lots of one-line zingers.

Glenn Cannon directs the play for The Actors' Group and takes the starring role of crusty Willie Clark — formerly of "Lewis and Clark" — whose last booking was "The Ed Sullivan Show" the night Al Lewis announced his retirement.

Clark has since lived alone in a seedy hotel, devouring issues of Variety supplied by his nephew and agent, and hating Lewis for breaking up the act after 43 years. He also carries a big grudge over Lewis' idiosyncrasies — like spitting on words beginning with "T" and jabbing with his finger.

But the lure of a television special brings the pair back together for one last appearance, shot through with bickering over past wrongs they never forgot.

Cannon has the best lines as the irascible Willie Clark, awash in unintended self-deprecating humor blended from irony and denial.

"Two new musicals went into rehearsal today. Why didn't I get an audition?"

"Because there were no parts for you. One of them is a young rock musical and the other show is all black."

"What's the matter, I can't do black? I did black in 1928. And when I did black, you understood the words, not like today."

Cannon is in his element for this part, using understated gesture, effective pauses and ethnic intonation to milk the nuances and precipitate the laughs. When he arches an eyebrow, it breaks up the first three rows.

Of course, in the tiny Yellow Brick Theatre, the first three rows are also the last three rows, and the intimate playing space seems to make the humor more personal and funnier than it might be in a large house. Intimate, in this context, is a matter of inches.

Sam Polson is Al Lewis in this production, feeding Cannon an unending supply of straight lines and perhaps unnecessarily underplaying the part. The humor is there but seems to be missing some of the provocative zing that would make their recreated vaudeville sketch even more inflammatory.

David Farmer does excellent work as Clark's frustrated nephew, patching up fixes to his uncle's bad behavior. Lauren Murata is also good as the stacked bimbo nurse.

Set designer John Black has stretched the small acting area with realistic doors and windows.