Q: One spring it stopped raining in early March and didn't start again. There was one very well-off bunny in the village who had a large burrow and lots of food saved up. He wasn't worried about the drought at all. The other bunnies, though, looked at the purple-red nettles withering in the fields and the mayweed that hadn't even flowered and wondered if they were going to have enough food to get them through the next winter. The very well-off bunny was named Albertus, but everybody called him Big Al--at least they called him that when they were sure he couldn't hear them. Big Al was in fact a very large bunny with long, white, silky fur. He had lots of land that his parents had left to him, and he never let any of the other bunnies gather food there. The story was that Big Al had sat on the one bunny who tried to make off with some of his carrots until the small bunny begged for mercy. After Big Al let him up, the small bunny moved to another village. One morning a dozen or more bunnies sat around the village square, licking the dew off the dried and wrinkled clover to quench their thirsts, and talking about the drought. There was still a bit of a cool breeze from Possum Creek, a mile or so away. Sophie Bunny, who was large and sleek, with a black circle around one eye, was there with her husband Lenny and their youngest, Ralph, who still lived at home with them. "I don't mind telling you," Lenny said, "I'm getting a little scared by all this." Lenny was a small, tan bunny with buck teeth and big cheeks like a chipmunk. "No need to be afraid," said the short, overweight Reverend Billy Bunny, the village's spiritual leader. "The Easter Bunny will provide." He sat, as he usually did, by the thick green hawthorn bush in the middle of the square--although the bush was neither as thick nor as green as it had once been. After the story ends Big Al: - invites the other bunnies into his burrow. - probably eats his food during the drought - not enough information - shares his food with the other bunnies
A: probably eats his food during the drought

Q: April 2-May 2 is the worst 30 day period for me. The reason is April 2, 2014 was the day my 53 year old wife found out that she had metastasized lung cancer. A large tumor had formed on the bottom of one lung, they found 4 tumors in her brain, another large one in her stomach and several more throughout her intestinal track. She rarely complained about physical problems and I knew something was wrong when she said she needed to go to the hospital ER. She died exactly 30 days later. I spent virtually every minute of that time with her. I went with her to radiation appointments. I stayed in the hospital with her because it seemed like every week I would have to take her in for something that required a 3 or 4 day stay. And the final trip to the ER was May 1st. An MRI showed that one of the tumors in her intestines had torn a hole in her bowel. The ER surgeon told us straight up that she was beyond any medical care that could help her and to use the next 24 hours to say goodbye to family and friends. And almost exactly 24 hours later, she was gone. I was devastated. 30.5 years of Happily Ever After turned into god fucking damn it all to hell! And when April 2 rolls around every year, I begin living those last 30 days of her life over again. I thought that after the third time in 2017 that I was about ready to let it go. I started really living again instead of just existing. But when April 2 came this year, I found that I was back in my memories. It was easier to deal with this time because of the way I had changed over the last year. I hung around with more friends and they helped distract me and one actually helped me turn May 2 into a celebration. And I love her for that. That's my story. After the end of this story, the storyteller is probably: - Pitiful - Sad - Raging - not enough information
A: Sad

Q: I had something that might have been a little supernatural. So I was trying to sleep one time, and I sleep under the blankets 99% of the time. I sleep downstairs, so hearing noise is pretty normal. Also, my door doesn't lock, or even latch the door handle, so you can just push it open. So I was laying down, maybe at 60% in terms of how close I was to falling asleep, so I just had to lay down for like 5 more minutes. But there are a lot of noises, and they freak me out even though I just sorta pretend that they're definitely a cat or my dog or something. So, I'm already slightly spooked, but I'm ignoring it and going to sleep anyway. But then, I hear my door open. That isn't too weird, I do have cats, so even though by this point my fear is intense, I just sorta blow it off and keep trying to sleep. And then, something that's never happened in a situation like this, I feel something moving towards me on my bed. It feels like a cats movements, with light feet making slight reverberations on the bed. So my fear goes away entirely, and I'm like "Oh okay, it's just the cat, that's good." And I lift my blankets off my head to let my cat under with me, and because the fear seemed to make the atmosphere under there very hot and tense, and then I look at my bed and there's nothing. So I just pretend nothing happened and go to sleep, but that still sticks with me and even though it's kinda underwhelming I still think it was very strange since I wasn't at the "edge of consciousness" stage of going to sleep, so I feel like the chances I imagined it aren't too high. The events of the story probably lasted: - the whole night - not enough information - under 30 minutes - for one hour
A: under 30 minutes