The surgeon who had delivered my son by C-section an hour earlier stepping back from the table, and saying, "We're done, people. Good job, everyone!" That hour had been hell for everyone in the room, save only my little boy, sleeping peacefully in the warming crib, and his mother, who was just stirring from the general that had put her under about 55 minutes earlier. I had come within a few minutes, maybe seconds, of raising my boy as a single parent. Her OB/GYN had fought valliently to keep my family together, and won. Everyone who'd been awake knew exactly how close run a thing it had been. Mr. Murphy had been hanging around the whole time, and neither Doc nor mom was catching a whole lot of breaks that evening. But Doc only needed one, and he made full use thereof. One thing for all new dad's whose wives have had previous abdominal surgery. You never want to hear the muttered words, "Creative anatomy on the way out", when somebody has your wife's belly open. Those are about the worst words in the world, because they mean Doc's gotta put stuff to right in there, and he might not have what he'd like in order to get it done. But when he stands back, after the sponge count had to be done twice, and the tool count is right, and the belly is stapled closed, and everyone in the room is still breathing Just let it be known that the roving nurse has extra sponges for dad's nose. Oh yeah, and the neonatal nurses don't expect dad to change that first diaper. Maconium is nasty shit. Litterally. But I was happy to do it while talking to his groggy mom. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: What is probably true about the author? Options: A. not enough information B. He was unhappy. C. He was busy. D. He is a loving husband.
D

(Question)
"Because all of you of Earth are idiots!" shouted Tom, wearily wiping the glass counter, removing coconut oil from the reflections of overpriced candy bars. Inside the theater the movie echoed him: "Because all of you of Earth are idiots!" Tom sighed, not for the first time that evening. The Manager, who paid in cash every Sunday, had decided to take advantage of the bizarre tastes of his Generation X clients and offer an Ed Wood film festival. Bride of the Monster, Plan 9 From Outer Space, and Night of the Ghouls ran on the second, smaller screen on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, two bucks a head. The Manager was making a killing. Tom, who needed the job in order to move out of his parents' trailer home, found little about the Ed Wood canon amusing, although it was light-years beyond anything by Coleman Francis. Even so, Tom had been forced to hear the dialog of each film, on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday... He only had to watch them once, having filled in for the Manager's weasel-featured nephew/projectionist Neoldner, who had called in sick to buy grass in Beloit. But he would have been able to forget the experience had it not been for the penetrating soundtrack which bled into the lobby. The ordeal, for tonight, was almost over - the concession stand closed after Plan 9. He hoped he had sold enough to keep his job - there was the worry that the Manager would increase his profit margin by manning the concession stand himself. But the Manager strolled out of the second theater with a broad grin, revealing his cutting overbite. "I don't know why," the Manager exclaimed, "but they love it!" "Most of them are from the 'Ed 9 Film Society,'" Tom replied. "By the way, I need to restock the chocolates." According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: After the end of this story, Tom worked on? Options: A. not enough information B. cleaning the counter C. restocking the chocolates D. chosing a new movie for Friday
(Answer)
C

Question: What are the worst examples of false advertising you've seen? Did you fall prey to their claims? Rather that vouch for myself - my story is trite, and not particularly interesting - I'll relay the tale one of my nurses shared with me when I was laid up in the hospital for a few weeks. Call her R. R was from an Eastern European country. We chit-chatted a lot, while she was taking my blood pressure readings and stuff. Lots of fun stories! But she relayed to me one of her first U.S. memories: She wanted to lose weight. She was impressed by some things the U.S. had to offer - "you have actual nutritional information on everything!" - and thus figured everything she encountered was on the level. And she found a "miracle cure" company who was along those lines! "These are AWESOME miracle shoe inserts! Wear them, and the pounds will melt away!" She saved her pennies and dimes; she sprung for the inserts. She received them... and they were shoe inserts; that much was true. But then there was their documentation: "using these insoles, combined with a 1200 calorie-per-day diet...." Like a 1200-calorie diet won't likely involve weight-loss, no matter what else you did, shoe inserts aside. The inserts did nothing, obviously. It was a sham. At which point she knew she was snookered, but really had no recourse. She wasn't explicit about it, but I got the feeling that it was a leading factor towards her chosen profession. "I might not have been the most sage medical person ever, but I'm gonna rectify that, and if ever I hear someone falling for that sort of gambit again, I'll be there to nip those sentiments in the bud with my own anecdotes." Which is awesome. I still feel for her. I wish I had contact information, so I could touch base, and express those thoughts personally. But that's the most personally resonant version of false advertising affecting someone that I've seen. According to the above context, choose the correct option to answer the following question. Question: When she received the awesome miracle inserts: Options: A. She found documentation suggesting a 1200 calorie a day diet. B. No documentation was enclosed. C. She found instructions on an exercise program. D. not enough information
Answer:
A