Word: warriners
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...headed up to Connecticut's Stafford Motor Speedway to meet Dennis Anderson, the man who built Grave Digger in 1981 and still drives it whenever his shoulder is attached to his body. He told me he had started out "mudboggin' and tug-o-warrin'" four-wheel drives. I didn't understand most of what Dennis said. After sitting down for a brief conversation, he told me my monster-truck name should be Powder Puff Boy. Then he punched me in the knee...
...headed up to Connecticut's Stafford Motor Speedway to meet Dennis Anderson, the man who built Grave Digger in 1981 and still drives it whenever his shoulder is attached to his body. He told me he had started out "mudboggin' and tug-o-warrin'" four-wheel drives. I didn't understand most of what Dennis said. After sitting down for a brief conversation, he told me my monster-truck name should be Powder Puff Boy. Then he punched me in the knee...
...Norris Avenue corner, whose turf is just across Berks Street. "I keep everybody together, plan any action we might take," he explains coolly. Just then a corner member, who looks to be no more than nine or ten, points a finger and yells: "Three dudes coming up. Looks like warrin' time." As the three enemy youngsters cross into no man's land, twelve of Smokey's gang set off at a run to intercept them. No weapons are visible yet, but the mood is ugly. Fortunately, a cruising police car happens by before the two groups collide...
...this scrabble of stories, Scenarist Irving Wallace has spelled his tale. Pianist Anthony Warrin, "a warm, perceptive and amusing . . . bachelor in his early 305" (Liberace himself, according to his pressagent, is 35), is at the height of his fame. His sequin-trimmed dinner jacket is faithfully buffed and his glass-topped piano Windexed by a pretty young secretary (Joanne Dru). She loves the man, but he would rather tickle the ivories. In San Francisco, though, the pianist has an experience (Dorothy Malone) that lifts his eyes from the scales. He hurries the young lady off to a museum, where...
...Sample stanza from a French translation of Jabberwocky (Le Jaseroque) by Frank L. Warrin, which appeared in the New Yorker...