One spring it stopped raining in early March and didn't start again. There was one very well-off bunny in the village who had a large burrow and lots of food saved up. He wasn't worried about the drought at all. The other bunnies, though, looked at the purple-red nettles withering in the fields and the mayweed that hadn't even flowered and wondered if they were going to have enough food to get them through the next winter. The very well-off bunny was named Albertus, but everybody called him Big Al--at least they called him that when they were sure he couldn't hear them. Big Al was in fact a very large bunny with long, white, silky fur. He had lots of land that his parents had left to him, and he never let any of the other bunnies gather food there. The story was that Big Al had sat on the one bunny who tried to make off with some of his carrots until the small bunny begged for mercy. After Big Al let him up, the small bunny moved to another village. One morning a dozen or more bunnies sat around the village square, licking the dew off the dried and wrinkled clover to quench their thirsts, and talking about the drought. There was still a bit of a cool breeze from Possum Creek, a mile or so away. Sophie Bunny, who was large and sleek, with a black circle around one eye, was there with her husband Lenny and their youngest, Ralph, who still lived at home with them. "I don't mind telling you," Lenny said, "I'm getting a little scared by all this." Lenny was a small, tan bunny with buck teeth and big cheeks like a chipmunk. "No need to be afraid," said the short, overweight Reverend Billy Bunny, the village's spiritual leader. "The Easter Bunny will provide." He sat, as he usually did, by the thick green hawthorn bush in the middle of the square--although the bush was neither as thick nor as green as it had once been. Question: Big Al stored food when? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- During the drought
- not enough information
- Before the drought
- After the drought

Answer: Before the drought

While I was in training, my class was 2 months out from graduation. We were in class, reviewing skills such as antenna theory, radios and map reading. Our instructor walks in and pulls a candidate, we'll leave nameless, aside. He walks him out of the classroom. I never really thought anything of it as instructors would often pull guys aside for reviews, specific instructions or taskings. I don't know how much time passed but the candidate walked back in. He gathered his things and left the room. Guys asked if everything was cool but he didn't say a word. The instructor came in and sat on the desk at the front of the room. We asked if everything was alright, and he told us that the day prior, the The candidate's wife had gone into labor however there were complications with the baby but the complications were unknown. He was reporting to the commander to let him know whether he wanted to stay in training or leave because the military does not consider a spouse's pregnancy to be an emergency even though the complication should be. If he were to leave he would have to drop from the TACP pipeline with a possibility of either starting it over from the beginning of quitting all together. The instructor shook his head and I could honestly see it was a difficult task for him to tell the candidate. It's rare to see an instructor be emotional but it was something that brought reality into the room for us. The candidate was given 24 hours to call the hospital, talk to his wife, learn more of the situation and make a decision. He ended up staying in the pipeline and graduated. His child was born with minor complications but is healthy to this day. It may not be an exact teacher to a student scenario, but it hits pretty damn close to those of us who went through military training. Question: The candidate probably felt .. === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- nervous upon hearing the news
- not enough information
- joyous about being a new father
- angry he got pulled out of class

Answer: nervous upon hearing the news

He picked me up at my house, and after getting back on the main road he turned up the volume on the radio. "Why do you even listen to that stuff?" I asked. It was schlock-rock, simple and unadorned wailing backed by incessantly grating guitars. "I don't really know." "You don't actually like it, do you?" I knew he didn't; I knew what he preferred. His apartment walls were lined with recordings of classical, even archaic music, European folk instrumentals. Maybe rock, once in a while, but he had had something amplified and pitch-altered on every time we'd been together lately. "I think we listen to pop music to punish ourselves," he said. "An aural bed of nails to compensate for our sins." "Those sins being...?" "I don't know... sometimes, don't you ever get so sick of everything you just want to cram your ears full of garbage to spite it all?" This was not normal second-date dialogue, but Phillip and I had known each other for a long time. "It's like you'd rather inflict pain," he said, "like you want to inflict pain on yourself, just for pure spite against... the stuff around us." "You'd choke on garbage to get back at a culture who would do it for you anyway?" "Yeah, kind of. Does that make sense?" "In a very cliched, pop-psychology sort of way, yes." I turned down the volume, then shut the radio off entirely. "Don't you ever want to hurt like that?" he asked. "It's why you read some thriller instead of a classic, it's why you watch TV instead of reading a book, it's why you watch a sitcom instead of PBS, it's why you watch Family Guy instead of the Simpsons." (I might have snorted at this point.) "Because you have to do the bad thing." Question: After the end of the story, the author is: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Pensive
- not enough information
- Unsure
- Conflicted

Answer:
Pensive