Q: Jason Munt said him and Carly Furnish got beamed up by a bunch of aliens just after he'd boldly gone with her in the car park woods. It was the boldly going bit people thought was bullshit. Carly Furnish was a good God-loving girl. Trouble was, she'd gone missing. And Jason Munt had a weird crescent-shaped branding in his back, and was sticking to his story. Jason got hauled in by the cops and told he was in a whole heap of trouble. He reported blinding lights and a feeling like floating. He described being strapped to a table by little green men. A cop slapped the table and shouted, 'there's a frigging girl out there.' Jason said he knew how it sounded - the little green men, the whole thing - but it's true: they were little and green, just like out of the comic books. He volunteered tests for drink and drugs. He came back negative on both counts. They left him to stew. He said the last he saw of Carly was her being sucked up in some kind of light ray. He said, 'she seemed asleep - all peaceful, like.' Jason could not explain why he'd been beamed back down to earth, yet they'd seemingly taken Carly all the way off home with them to the Planet Zog. There were plenty of people willing to reckon it proved aliens had mighty good taste, but it wasn't the time nor the place to say it out loud. The cops released Jason after two days of questions. He stuck to his story throughout. The desk sergeant said, 'mark my words, there's a lot of hate out there.' Jason headed straight home. He lived in one of the straggle of council houses leading up to the tip. Carly Furnish and her folks lived two doors down. Supposedly they were distant relatives, but that's what everyone said about folks on that street. Question: Who went missing? === The answer to the above question is | OPTIONS:
- Jason
- A police officer.
- Carly
- not enough information
A: Carly

Q: Kurt Vonnegut, writer and famous speech giver at US university graduation ceremonies, made this point to one group of soon-to-be-non-students: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. It is the end of a story about his grandpa who, on a summer's afternoon, would find the shade of a tree under which he could rest with a glass of homemade lemonade. The family didn't have a lot of cash, the grandpa worked hard every day of his life, but no matter how relentless the day-to-day was, he would always repeat this phrase as a reminder to those around him that, at the end of the day, this is all still amazing to be part of. This kind of optimism, as you might call it, can often disappear in a flash in the busy-ness of business or school. Things become impossible, hardgoing, relentless(ly difficult). And the reasons we give for that busyness nearly always involve someone or something else - the system, the job, the weather... For many years, people would ask the salutary "how are you?" and my answer was a stock one: "I'm tired." It was my wife who pointed it out to me, presumably because everyone else was too polite to express their boredom with my reply. The fact is, most people feel tired most of the time, until they make a switch in their life. That switch is deciding that the only person who can turn that frown upside down, who can make crazy stuff happen (or attempt to, and enjoy the process), is you. And in Vonnegut's case, that switch came from saying out loud the one phrase that brings us back to the good elements in what we or our team or our family is doing at any given moment: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. Question: Who probably didn't have a lot of cash besides Vonnegut's grandpa? === The answer to the above question is | OPTIONS:
- probably Vonnegut's other grandpa
- probably Vonnegut's children
- not enough information
- probably Vonnegut's parents
A: not enough information

Q: SINGAPORE What now? That is the question from the White House in Washington to the Blue House in Seoul and perhaps also inside the Ryongsong Residence in Pyongyang. Following the historic handshake here between a U.S. president and a North Korean leader, who inked their names to a document with vague but compelling promises, the question emanating from Sentosa's Capella Hotel was what will actually change on the Korean peninsula? Moments after the summit between Donald Trump and North Korea's Kim Jong Un concluded, VOA contributor Greta Van Susteren and I spent a few minutes with the U.S. president and his secretary of state, at the Capella. Trump was elated and within the hour would make a surprising announcement suspending "provocative" joint U.S.-South Korean drills on the Korean peninsula. "We had a great chemistry," the president, speaking to Van Susteren, said of himself and Kim. "We will do business." Secretary of State Mike Pompeo told us, "it's a great day." The president has essentially handed off to Pompeo the hard work of turning a sparse declaration on denuclearization into something truly transformative. Many will question whether Pompeo, who a decade ago was running an oilfield equipment company, is truly the man for the task. In Pompeo's background, however, are indications of his capabilities: First in his class at the U.S. Military Academy, time served on the House of Representative's intelligence committee, a brief stint as director of the Central Intelligence Agency and two meetings with Kim in Pyongyang. Perhaps he is now as astute as any American official on piecing together the Pyongyang puzzle. This correspondent an observer of the Korean peninsula over five decades, resident in Seoul for several years and once given the opportunity to frankly converse for a week (in 2013) in the North with KPA officers has gleaned some insight into the world's most reclusive state. Rarely can any collection of a few hundred words adequately encapsulate the geo-political conundrum. It is... Question: When was the president elated? === The answer to the above question is | OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- directly after the summit was over
- when shaking hands with kim
- when entering North Korea
A: directly after the summit was over