Word: phoned
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...looked at the Vagabond's ashen face. There were tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat, blew his nose, and went on. "After that they came thick and fast. Sometimes the phone rang before I had relinquished my grip on the newly-cradled receiver. Marrowitz, Marrowitz, Marrowitz, roared in a tumultuous crescendo inside my skull. Finally I fled into the unknown morning, vaguely seeking surceace in Sever Hall with Uzbek Studies 229. It was ghastly--so ghastly I cannot talk about it. The obscene rites that there transpired, as registered on my fear-crazed brain by my blear-hazed...
Then, suddenly, dramatically, the silence was rent in shiver. The phone! It was ringing! Again...
...tones and pauses were those of a man with an ineradicable scar burned on his memory. "I do not know how long I had been sleeping-it could not have been more than a few minutes--when I awoke with a start. The phone. It was ringing--again. This time it was a man's voice. 'Hello,' it said. 'Hello, Marrowitz...
...hung up and I went to bed again, but this time I could not sleep. My brain was a riot of surmise. When the phone rang, again, as of course it did in a matter of moments, a shiver of fear transfixed every inch of my body. A woman again. 'See here,' I greeeted the inevitable query. 'This must stop. I am not Marrowitz, madam, nor is this his market.' This time I hung up the phone...
...picked up the phone slowly, with a strange, terribly matter-of-fact air. "Hello," he said in a dull, unfamiliar voice. "This is Marrowitz's Market. Marrowitz speaking...