Word: ranging
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...trolley cars were running in Beirut again, though it was a bumpy ride through streets torn and pitted by five months of civil war. Joyous bonfires were lit, the shops rolled up their shutters, the barricades began to come down. Shots rang out, but only in celebration; peace had come at last to Lebanon...
...figure in grey slacks and blue windbreaker. Under fluffy, center-parted white hair, his big, broad-browed head was thrust forward, turtle fashion. He looked old as he walked toward the cleat-chewed turf, but he shed his years like a mantle and straightened up smartly as the call rang out: "All right, kickers and punters," and the 39 players ended their scrimmage. Nine young men fell out and trotted over to the venerable newcomer. "Hi, coach," they chorused. Then one asked: "How about some kicking today...
...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...
...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...
...next time it rang, I picked it up with a trembling hand. 'Marrowitz?' It was a little girl this time...