He had apparently spaced out for a second or two. When he came to, a large, annoyed woman was leaning in toward him. "Mister? Mister, are you even listening to me?" He looked at the receding rows of fluorescent lights on the struts of the cavernous ceiling, the gleaming linoleum floors, the pallets of sale-priced plastic coolers and Special K and motor oil, and then he looked at the rack of merchandise at his back and understood that he was in a Wal-Mart, behind the returns counter. He heard his own voice saying, as if by reflex, "Do you have your receipt?" * At the first opportunity, he locked himself in a bathroom stall and dug out his wallet. His driver's license showed the right name, birthdate, and photo, but it had been issued by the State of North Carolina, and it listed an address he'd never heard of. He scrubbed his face at the sink. It was him in the mirror, a tanned and healthy 56, hair mostly gray but still all there. He felt groggy, as if he'd woken prematurely. It was only the numbness, he thought, that kept the panic at bay. If he didn't push, he found he knew the answers to some questions. He was due to clock out in an hour. When he left the parking lot he would go under the highway, turn left, and merge. * He found his way to a battered white Toyota pickup in the employee section. The key in his pocket started the engine. He forced himself not to think too hard as he drove, taking the turns that seemed to have a certain inevitability. He wound up on a dirt road near someplace called Pittsboro, in front of a small brick house surrounded by high yellow grass, pines, and live oaks. What department was he working in - store room - returns customer - not enough information - cashier
returns customer

(Question)
I still remember that day when my mother realized that finally I had matured and was no longer a child. It was the month of December and my parents were not at home. It was very cold and I was thinking of doing something that can raise my body temperature . Well, now I think I should have chosen doing exercise over porn . The mood was set, wi-fi speed was good and Google search was working. It took me half an hour to select a porn video. After selecting the video I downloaded it . WTF where are my earphones. Took 15 minutes to locate my earphones. The movie began and just after 5 seconds the door bell rang and this was where I got screwed when I forgot to minimize the movie. My parents were back home and I was back to my studies and just forgot about the movie. Now I have a habit that while I am studying I keep the phone in the next room. My mother was in the same room where the phone was. Now comes the worst part when my phone received a whatsapp message and my mother saw that message was dropped. Without giving any damm to my privacy she opened the phone and it was my bad luck that there was no screen lock. The movie automatically started and after 5 seconds she took the phone to my dad she said "This is what he is doing when he's alone" My parents called me what is this ?? I said it's a video message from the company and it starts automatically. I have nothing to do with that stuff and suddenly my dad said yes he is right, it's a video from the company and asked me to delete the video. My dad saved me because he already knew that I watched that kind of stuff. From that day on, I never download the movies but I watch them online, I just hate the buffering part . When did the son watch the movie - When his parents were in the kitchen - when his parents were downstairs - after his parents were not at home - not enough information
(Answer)
after his parents were not at home

Ques: I remember back in the late 1970's when I first started investing in property as a young guy, being taken to a house that felt EXTREMELY cold, strange, and rather chilling. Okay it was an older house that need some renovation work, but there was something about the place that just did not seem right. But despite that, it was available for purchase at what seemed to be a very attractive price always a good starting point. Anyway, the real estate agent finished taking me around the property answering the questions that I had, and I left with a plan to do some costings before making a decision. But something was niggling me and making me feel a little uncomfortable, so I decided to investigate the property further. A couple of days later I was around at a friends house. He was in the Police force and as it happened he was in the same neighbourhood, I mentioned this particular property that I was looking at buying. He asked me the actual address after which he 'kindly' informed me that that that house had been the scene of a murder 6 months previously. It turned out that the property had been rented to a homosexual couple and that after an argument, one had murdered the other in the bath and then proceeded to cut his head off. Apparently the head was subsequently discovered a week later in the trunk of a car that had been abandoned up by a local golf-course. Less than impressed that the real estate agent had been less than forthcoming with me, I made the decision to not to proceed with the purchase. As they say in the property business 'Location, Location, Location' is always an important factor in determining the value of a property. However despite that being a good location, it was reputation that deterred me on that occasion. Sometimes there are situations where even the best makeover will not work. The main character thinks the house: - not enough information - old - ugly - creepy
Ans: creepy

I'm sitting at the airport on a Sunday morning waiting for my flight to Las Vegas for the now-annual pilgrimage to the NamesCon conference. A few years ago, Vegas was one of my "bucket list" places one of those iconic cities that one should visit at least once in their life. For me, once was enough. This is now my 4th (I think?) trip to Vegas, and while the city has a lot to offer, it's just not my cup of tea. For one thing, I'm not a gambler, like at all. I don't have anything against it, I just don't enjoy it. It either feels pointless or stressful to me. The city itself makes me a little sad in some cases, it reeks of desperation. Last time I was there, my cab driver entertained me with stories of how she was working 3 jobs to save up enough to join some mega-massive bingo game. She won a small jackpot a few years back and that allowed her to work only one job for a few months. She was hoping to win again so she could cut back to 1 or 2 jobs. I wondered how many people do similar things gambling their money away, in big or small chunks, in the hopes of that big score and in the process, putting themselves in a not-great financial situation. I suppose as long it makes them happy, then it's all OK, but I can't help but think someone like my cab driver might be happier overall if she only worked 1 job instead of 3, instead of working extra jobs to save up money to gamble her way to financial freedom. But that's for her to decide, not me. The juxtaposition of extreme and in-your-face wealth and the homeless people on the Strip also makes me sad. It's difficult to see people begging for food and sleeping on the street while all around you, millions of dollars are poured into creating a massive playground with every type of indulgence possible. But I'm the first to say that I've enjoyed staying in some of the nicer hotel properties there and eating several excellent meals at some of the finer restaurants in the area, so I'm not exactly helping to solve the problem. Who had a bucket list of places to visit including Vegas? - the author's son - not enough information - the author - the author's wife
the author