input: OPTIONS:
- quit their job
- never worked again
- continued working
- not enough information Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I was fencing wire at Flat Broke Acres and trying to tighten up the wire a bit. I lost the grip of the fencing wire and the pliers smacked me in the mouth. This is what I hit myself in the mouth with. The curved end glance off my left front central incisor. It hurt some, my lips were lacerated, I scared my wife when I came in to take a look at it in the mirror but the pain to come was far worse. Tooth was intact thank goodness and was a bit wobbly and I said to myself yup, this could be a problem. A month or two later I hit it again when I was putting a portable step fence panel in the bed of the truck and it bounced and split the bridge of my nose and hit the tooth again. did not break or get displaced. Thank goodness I have a particularly thick head. Tooth trauma is a strange thing. It can blow up anywhere up to a year later. So almost 6 months later I was flying to a meeting in Orlando and of course the tooth decided to react to changes in atmospheric pressure just so I could experience the exquisite pain of barodontalgia. Kind of pain that makes you want to pry the top of your head off with a pitchfork because it would take your mind off the pain. Problem was it did not resolve after landing or anytime during the 4 days I was at the meeting. A combo regimen of acetaminophen and ibuprofen manage the pain well enough until I could get home and have it seen to. Pain did not end but the Xray showed no fracture or endodontic lesion. Strange. Then as suddenly as it occurred, the pain ceased. Strange x 2. Snapped another film and there was no pathology. Tooth was vital on pulp testing. So I did nothing more. I chalked it up to it being a karmic reminder about patients and dental pain as I've never had a cavity let alone a dental abscess. It let me feel your pain. Question: After the end of this story, the narrator probably: Answer:
A:
output: continued working

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: The sound of the clacking grew unbearable, so we turned the volume down. "Mute it." We muted it. "Turn it up; we might miss something." It's a silent movie. We won't miss anything. The sound of clacking gradually fills the room as my brother reluctantly turns up the volume. I can tell he's pressing hard on the button, jamming his thumb down in defiance or muted anger. He doesn't like for anyone to tell him what to do with the remote. But my grandmother wants the volume up, so we turn it up. We're all sitting along the edges of the tiny living room, staring at the fuzzy black-and-white images as they hazily walk across the television screen. I can hear a siren outside, barely discernable and then gone entirely. "Who's that?" my brother asks, evidently past his momentary and barely-noticeable indignation over the remote. "Uncle Arehl, and maybe his sister, Edna," my grandmother says, leaning in closer. "I think it's Edna," she says, in the tone of a doctor diagnosing a disease, as if the verdict was somehow relevant to someone who has only the vaguest idea who Arehl's sister is, or was. Uncle Arehl (I don't know precisely whose uncle he is, or for what the two initials of his name once stood) saunters slowly across a dry, patchy lawn, and the camera follows him. For some reason I'm more interested in the lawn--if it can be called that--than in the people on it. The sun in the movie is blazing, and everyone filmed looks only briefly at the camera before averting their faces once again to look at the stubbly grass. The camera pans once again and I can see an incredibly rutted path leading from the porch to the fence at the edge of the yard, broken pieces of concrete amid deep tire tracks fossilized in sun-baked mud. The fence is low, wire like a chain-link, but lower, with metal stakes holding it up instead of tubes. Question: What did the lawn look like? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- Lush
- Nice
- not enough information
- Dry and patchy.

Answer: Dry and patchy.

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Sheila split open and the air was filled with gumballs. Yellow gumballs. This was awful for Stan, just awful. He had loved Sheila for a long time, fought for her heart, believed in their love until finally she had come around. They were about to kiss for the first time and then this: yellow gumballs. Stan went to a group to try to accept that Sheila was gone. It was a group for people whose unrequited love had ended in some kind of surrealist moment. There is a group for everything in California. After several months of hard work on himself with the group, Stan was ready to open a shop and sell the thousands of yellow gumballs. He did this because he believed in capitalism, he loved capitalism. He loved the dynamic surge and crash of Amazon's stock price, he loved the great concrete malls spreading across America like blood staining through a handkerchief, he loved how everything could be tracked and mirrored in numbers. When he closed the store each night he would count the gumballs sold, and he would determine his gross revenue, his operating expenses, his operating margin; he would adjust his balance sheet and learn his debt to equity ratio; and after this exercise each night, Stan felt he understood himself and was at peace, and he could go home to his apartment and drink tea and sleep, without shooting himself or thinking about Sheila. On the night before the IPO of gumballs.com, Sheila came to Stan in a dream. She was standing in a kiddie pool; Stan and his brothers and sisters were running around splashing and screaming; she had managed to insert herself into a Super-8 home movie of Stan's family, shot in the late 70's. She looked terribly sad. "Sheila, where are you?" Stan said. "Why did you leave me, why did you become gumballs?" "The Ant King has me," Sheila said. "You must rescue me." Question: Who turned into thousands of yellow gumballs? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- Stans' brothers
- Stan
- Sheila

Answer:
Sheila