The Sugar Witch opens on a sad note. A beloved pet has died, and its guardian insists that her brother give it a proper burial. That the deceased is a palmetto bug, better known as a cockroach, makes no never mind. Lurleen's gravesite even gets a miniature crucifix made from twigs.

That's just the start of the eccentricities that emanate from the Bean siblings living on the edge of a swamp in rural Florida. Their land is infested with ornery flying cats, their house has not only cockroaches but poltergeists, and they have a live-in shaman to help them cope with the curse that has decimated their family. But for Sisser and Moses Bean, it's business as usual – at least until several outsiders disrupt their blighted sanctum.

Playwright Nathan Sanders, a native of Florida who now lives in San Francisco, displays a delightful propensity for twinkling weirdness in The Sugar Witch, first seen in San Jose in 2007 and now being staged at New Conservatory Theatre Center. Even before the play begins, there is much to admire in Kuo-Hao-Lo's elaborately detailed set of the Bean family's dilapidated home and its unkempt yard.

The off-kilter pleasures continue as the play begins to unfold under Dennis Lickteig's direction, and we get hints of the family's ignoble past and curious present. Brother Moses, a mild mechanic who's never been farther from home than the Texaco station where he works, nevertheless has two ardent suitors. Ruth-Ann is a rifle-toting maniac who has made a fundamental misjudgment. Moses, although a virgin, is attracted to men, and specifically the local mortician whose hearse he tunes up down at the Texaco.

Even though the first act ends in murder, it's the kind of ho-ho homicide suggesting satire of the gothic thrillers once in vogue for aging film divas. The shift into serious in the second act is unsettling, both for its incongruity and for a diminished dramatic vibrancy. While the stakes are high for the characters, too much of the dialogue is given over to mumbo-jumbo instructions in the supernatural, and in plot developments that don't much develop the characters. There are also missed opportunities in exploring the burgeoning gay relationship in a culture where that would likely be alien, and in presenting a gripping piece of the story puzzle in recitation rather than shown, even though there are enough appropriate actors on hand to dramatize the flashback without having to add to the cast.

But Kendra Owens, as the sugar witch, deserves high marks for making the recitation as interesting as it is, and for a quietly commanding performance throughout the play. As the addled Sisser, A.J. Davenport is eerily kooky, while Michael Phillis provides an appealingly gentle counterforce as her brother. Nice work also from William Giammona as the somewhat bland gentleman caller, Amelia Mulkey as the most-unwelcome lady caller, and Jay Smith as her cantankerous grandfather.

Through the first act and in certain moments in the second act, The Sugar Witch is a whimsical journey into ominous territories. It's a play where threats of eternal damnation come out as, "The devil is going to toast you like a marshmallow on a stick."

The Sugar Witch will run at New Conservatory Theatre Center through April 4. Tickets are $22-$40. Call 861-8972 or go to www.nctcsf.org.