I heard the distinct whoop-whoop of the police siren behind us.

On weekends and vacations, San Bernardinans could choose between desert relaxation or the more strenuous pleasures of the San Bernardino Mountains.

The morning of the wedding he bounded up my stair, most tremendously shaved and brushed, stood upon my doormat bashfully hesitant.

But his paint-bombing bombardment and this train are generative, fecund gestures, as well as scatalogical.