"Congratulations, jackass, you just got us sued." My editor, Sharon, was standing in front of my desk. She was apparently not happy. I shrugged, slouching further down in my chair, trying to hide from her gigantic crazy eyes behind my computer. It was a white laptop with a sticker that said "This Machine Kills Yuppies" slapped over the corporate logo on back. She reached out with one of her freakish man-hands and slammed the screen shut. "Let me try this again. You just got us sued six times over." Sharon Sinclair was a six-foot-tall beast of a woman with a huge mane of wiry black and gray hair pulled back in a pony tail. I had every confidence that she could tear me in two and use my bloody carcass in some kinky hedonistic lesbian cult ritual or something. So I usually tried to choose my words with the appropriate care around her. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, I haven't even had my morning coffee yet, and my head's still reeling from the Louisville Slugger that pummeled it last night. So I really don't feel like dealing with whatever annoying hormonal episode you have going on here." She glared at me silently, watching me squirm a little before asking, "Are you done?" "Probably." "Good," she said with a suppressed grin as she took a seat next to me. "Because I just let you publicly accuse the mayor and the valley's most powerful corporations of conspiring to defraud the taxpayers. So what's your plan for keeping my ass off the firing line?" I tilted back in my chair and met Sharon's gaze. "Look, we knew we'd get a strong reaction. Let them sue. We have e-mails to back us up." "These legal briefings say your e-mails were forged," she responded, waving a thick stack of papers in my face. "Of course they're gonna say that. That's why I made sure to get corroboration. Abrasax confirmed that the e-mails between Dylan Maxwell and City Hall are legit. But you know all this, so I don't know why we're wasting time going over it again." After the conversation, Sharon probably feels: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - neutral - furious - reassured - not enough information
reassured

(Question)
Macy Golong peeked into Mallie Mae's room and was not surprised to see her sleeping. Elmo's mother rarely stayed up past 10:00 PM, and it was nearly 11:00. She closed the door and started to go back to her room across the hall. She was halfway through a romance novel. But Hadley's delicious oatmeal raisin cookies were calling to her. She walked down the stairs to the kitchen and put a few cookies on a plate. Then she poured a glass of milk. She wondered what Elmo was doing. Was he in the Media Room with Carsie? Their Media Room? Before Elmo and Carsie got together, Elmo and Macy used to spend hours almost every night in that room. Some nights he had almost kissed her. She left her milk and cookies on the kitchen counter and went down another flight of stairs, which came out in the Recreation Room. Macy could hear the sound of the TV coming from Media Room. She tiptoed to the open doorway and peeked in. There she was--that conniving slut--sitting where Macy should have been. How could Elmo have replaced her like that? She thought he had been falling in love with her. How could she have been so wrong? But it could still happen--if that woman would just go away. Elmo said, "Yeah. So, beginning Monday there will be two doctors in the office. That should take a little pressure off. If I need to be out for a day or two, Dr. Edwards can fill in for me." "Yeah, or if you need to take off a week for a trip to Hawaii with your beautiful new wife." Carsie gave him a sexy smile. "That's right. Dr. Ernie will take care of everything while I'm gone." "Dr. Ernie?" "Yeah. I asked if he would mind being called 'Dr. Ernie'. His name is Ernest, but I thought 'Dr. Ernie' would fit in well with the Sesame Street theme of my office." "So the two of you are Drs. Elmo and Ernie?" "Yep." Who rarely stayed up past 10:00 pm? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Elmo's Mother - Macy - not enough information - Elmo
(Answer)
Elmo's Mother

My mother's first career was as a beautician. Growing up, she cut everyone in our family's hair; she dyed mine whenever I wanted, and whatever crazy color I wanted, too. Until I was a senior in high school, I had never been to a salon. I don't even remember why I went this time. Mom was going to have her hair done, and I had tagged along. She asked if I wanted a cut too and I said why not? So while Mom was getting her hair done I looked through the books and picked out a cute pageboy style that I liked. Finally it was my turn and after talking with the stylist and showing her what I wanted, she led me to the shampoo station. Now, as everybody who has ever been to a salon knows, you sit back in the chair with your neck in the indentation and they wash your hair. But I had never been to a salon. When mom washed my hair after dyeing it, I always leaned over the sink. So I started to climb into the chair and lean over the sink here, too. My mom was mortified and the stylist couldn't figure out what in the heck I was doing. Mom calls out, "No, Jennifer you sit in the chair." I look over my shoulder at her and then realize what I've done. Red-faced, I stand up and then turn around to sit and lean back in the chair. I honestly wanted to die right there. I'm pretty sure the stylist thought I was developmentally delayed or something because she talked to me for the rest of the time like one would talk to a three-year-old. Mom tried to explain that I'd never been to a salon before, but I think that just made the situation worse. Thankfully I've been to many salons now and understand how everything works, but I've never returned to THAT one. After the end of this story, Jennifer probably: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - had her mom cut her hair right away - went to another salon the next day - not enough information - had a nice haircut
had a nice haircut