Cerberus just stared at me. The dog didn't blink, he didn't pant, he didn't move. He just sat in the passenger seat as I drove, relaxed, mouth hanging slightly open, looking at me the way someone examines a menu but can't decide on the chicken or the veal. The desert sky was on fire when the city came into view. Cerberus turned away from me and stuck his head out from the side of the jeep, his giant tongue flapping in the eighty mile an hour wind while I dialed Luna's number. The dog pulled his head back in, then rested his chin on top of the overhead roll-bar, his fur blowing back along his head like the spines of a porcupine. "Hello?" "Hey, Luna." "Dingo! Are you there yet?" "No, not yet. I'm just outside the city." Vegas flashed and blinked under the starless sky. "You get in touch with Mr. Waciejowski?" "Sure did. He's at the Denny's near the Excalibur. He's trying to stay away from the blackjack tables." "Yeah, good for him. He has the box?" I could hear Luna stuffing something disgustingly healthy in her mouth. "Mmm hmm." "He hasn't opened it, has he?" She swallowed. "Nah. I told him it was filled with old photos." Cerberus shifted in the seat and scratched behind his neck with such force that the whole Jeep shook; a rather unsettling motion at 80 miles an hour. "Hey Luna, I've got a question for you." I looked over to see the dog's nostrils flared out in the wind while his lips blew back and revealed his frightening set of teeth. "This, uh, this animal spirit guide you had me try to find. Do they ever show up, you know, in person?" Question: What did Luna tell him the box was filled with? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- candy
- old photos
- dog treats
old photos

Angela Hammerly dedicated her life to becoming District Attorney. At 42, she had never been married, or even seriously dated. All she could think about, night and day, was her ultimate goal. And her dream finally came true, thanks to the death of 74-year-old Porter Strickley. She could not deny that she had learned the job well, working for that old pain-in-the-butt. He was 57 when she interviewed for the position of Assistant District Attorney. At the time, she thought he was 70. Two months ago, she had become the District Attorney. She loved seeing her name on the door. And she felt a rush of adrenaline every time a judge referred to her as 'The District Attorney' in open court. The D.A.'s office would be better than ever--now that she was running the show. There was a soft knock, and Andrea Newly opened the door just enough to peek in. "Come in, Andrea." Angela sometimes wondered if she had made a mistake two weeks ago when she hired this timid young lady as her assistant. Angela had been impressed with her resume. But in person, Andrea was quiet, and seemed to be rather intimidated by Angela. But Andrea was enthralled with every word Angela spoke. And the new D.A. couldn't resist the prospect of being god to her assistant. She had hired her on the spot, even though she knew Andrea would stress her patience. But Angela was confident the 25-year-old could be molded into her mentor's image. And thereby, become a powerful force for justice in the D.A.'s office. Andrea took a chair across from the D.A. The furniture in the District Attorney's office was similar to that found in most old government offices-largely unchanged since the 1950s. Yet the hardwood chairs and desks were of such good quality that an exact replacement would be cost prohibitive in today's market. Angela planned to upsize her diminutive desk as soon as possible, even if the money came out of her own pocket. Question: What did Angela want to change? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Some 1950's furniture in her office
- not enough information
- Her timid assistant
- Her lack of a love life

Answer: Some 1950's furniture in her office

Both gross and tragic. The 1980 Bank Robbery in Central Nyack that was medically managed at the Nyack Hospital where I responded to the ONLY Code 66 of my career. That "66"indicated for us an external disaster about to unload in our emergency room. The two policemen who were mortally injured and died on our stretchers were personal friends and one the boyfriend of one of the nurses. Their injuries were from machine guns where the flesh is riddled with explosive elements as opposed to a gunshot wounds where there is both an entry and exit site. In our Trauma and Triage Course we never learned about machine gun injuries. Additionally there were the criminals who were also injured and of course we needed to treat them as any other patient regardless of their behavior. The friends of the injured policemen were trying to get to these villains and it was just the most awful evening of my life. To this day I remember feeling nauseous in a way I had never felt before. We had debriefing sessions for weeks and of course were very upset for months. The wounds we had to address, the insertion of chest tubes and everything else all in such a rapid manner was indeed a more than gross situation. There was even open heart massage. Private doctors reported to help; many are not trained or current in emergency medicine; much is left to critical care nurses in a community hospital that is not a teaching institution with residents and interns on staff. Recently one of the women involved in this crime came up for parole. Of course there was great opposition from the community relative to her release. She was young and that was 38 years ago. I believe people deserve a second chance, but of course this is a very controversial matter. Question: How long did it take to treat the victims of the bank robbery? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- a few hours
- a few days
- a few months
a few hours