These incoherent words threw the first glimpse of light on the meaning of her distress and penitence. I doubt if the best woman in Christendom would so reproach and abase herself, if convicted of even a worse sin than the secret use of those stimulants for which the "charny" is a Martial equivalent. No Martialist would dream of poisoning his blood and besotting his brain with alcohol in any form. But their opiates affect a race addicted to physical repose, to sensuous enjoyment rather than to sensual excitement, and to lucid intellectual contemplation, with a sense of serene delight as supremely delicious to their temperament as the dreamy illusions of haschisch to the Turk, the fierce frenzy of bhang to the Malay, or the wild excitement of brandy or Geneva to the races of Northern Europe. But as with the luxury of intoxication in Europe, so in Mars indulgence in these drugs, freely permitted to the one sex, is strictly forbidden by opinion and domestic rule to the other. A lady discovered in the use of "charny" is as deeply disgraced as an European matron detected in the secret enjoyment of spirits and cigars; and her lord and master takes care to render her sufficiently conscious of her fault.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: What is the name of the drug used in Mars?

Hotel California My first thought: I was going crazy. Twenty-four hours of silence (vacuum, remember); was I hallucinating noises now? I heard it again. It was a fine bell, reminiscent of ancient stone churches and the towering cathedrals I'd seen in documentaries. And accompanying the bell, I saw a light. Now, there were two things here that made ridiculously small amounts of sense. First, the whole in-a-vacuum why's-there-a-bell thing. Second, I was floating in the dark remnants of my broken ship, and any conceivable light sources were not within view; starlight is a distinctly different color and significantly less bright. These signals were the heralds of my saviors. The first words they said to me meant nothing. I wasn't listening; I didn't care; I was going to live; I was going to keep breathing. Next to those, nothing else mattered. The recycled air tasted sweet in my mouth, and all thoughts that crossed my mind were cheap metaphors about life-giving substances and how breathing was like sex, only better. (I reserved the right to revise this opinion later.) When I was done mentally exclaiming over my impossible rescue, I looked around. The ship, it was odd and old, either so outdated or so heavily modified that I couldn't tell what make it was, and somehow, the crew standing around me fit the same description, a singularly atypical amalgamation of folk. And me, I guess I was one more piece in their puzzle. I was one more scrap to weld onto the rest, one more stranded survivor who was found. I was now one of them.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: Who is the "Them" the writer refers to being one of?

Pester came running into the room. He came to a fast stop when he saw the dog. He'd seen a dog before, every cat has, and he used to live with a black dog named Henry, but he'd never seen a brown one before. It seemed strange to him, but not as strange as it was to see Linda the brown chicken in the living room last spring. That still confused him. He thought he liked this dog, not because of the color, but because it was small. And it was so hairy. It was a like a mop that could run around. He jumped on his favorite chair and looked down as Maggie ran under it. She was kind of cute for a dog, Pester thought to himself. He layed down on the chair and pawed at her as she ran in a circle under it. He tapped her ears as she went by, and waved his tail like a flag trying to get her attention. After a little more of this, Pester curled up in a ball on the chair and took a nap.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: Was Pester already familiar with dogs when he came running into the room?

Tim had always a red bike. His birthday party was coming up and he hoped that his parents would finally get him the bike. When his friends came over for the party, Tim was very worried that he wouldn't get the bike. He looked at all the presents and none of them seemed big enough to have a bike in them. Tim was sad. When it was time to open the presents he opened them one at a time. The first present was not a bike. The second present was not a bike. The third present was the biggest one. Tim knew if the bike was going to be in any of the presents it was going to be in this box. Tim opened it and there was no bike inside. Just as Tim tried not to look too upset, his Dad brought in the biggest present of them all. His Dad had been hiding the present all along. Tim opened it and his new bike was inside the box. Tim put the bike together with his Dad's help.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION:
Was the bike in the biggest of the first three boxes?