Problem: OPTIONS:
- The smell of the contents in the can
- the snake
- not enough information
- telecom
Q: Dark meat in the can--brown, oily, and flecked with mucus--gave off a repellent, fishy smell, and the taste of it rose in his throat, putrid and bitter, like something from a dead man's stomach. George Jordan sat on the kitchen floor and vomited, then pushed himself away from the shining pool, which looked very much like what remained in the can. He thought, No, this won't do: I have wires in my head, and they make me eat cat food. The snake likes cat food He needed help but know there was little point in calling the Air Force. He'd tried them, and there was no way they were going to admit responsibility for the monster in his head. What George called the snake, the Air Force called Effective Human Interface Technology and didn't want to hear about any postdischarge problems with it. They had their own problems with congressional committees investigating "the conduct of the war in Thailand." He lay for a while with his cheek on the cold linoleum, got up and rinsed his mouth in the sink, then stuck his head under the faucet and ran cold water over it, thinking, Call the goddamned multicomp, then call SenTrax and say, "Is it true you can do something about this incubus that wants to take possession of my soul?" And if they ask you, "What's your problem?" you say "cat food," and maybe they'll say, "Hell, it just wants to take possession of your lunch" A chair covered in brown corduroy stood in the middle of the barren living room, a white telephone on the floor beside it, a television flat against the opposite waIl--that was the whole thing, what might have been home, if it weren't for the snake. He picked up the phone, called up the directory on its screen, and keyed TELECOM SENTRAX. According to the above context, answer the following question. What made George puke?
Answer: The smell of the contents in the can
Problem: OPTIONS:
- 2 hours
- 2 minutes
- 20 minutes
- not enough information
Q: Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. According to the above context, answer the following question. Morzeny's walk most likely lasted:
Answer: 20 minutes
Problem: OPTIONS:
- Ma, Mayella, and Francine will scrub the front room
- They will do a tour
- not enough information
- Workers will come to the restaurant
Q: Everyone woke early on the day that Dogland's restaurant opened. Everything that needed to be done in advance had been done: white wire tables and chairs stood on the restaurant's green concrete patio, and a sign painter had lettered each of the restaurant's windows: Doggy gifts and Snack bar and Guided tours and Bring your camera! and Entrance with a stylized hand with a finger pointing toward the restaurant's front door. Ma, Mayella, and Francine had scrubbed the front room and the kitchen "from top to bottom," as Ma proudly announced several times. She wished her mother could come to visit, because she knew the place would never be so clean again. James had mowed the open land, and Ethorne had walked the grounds with a clippers and a knife, saying he had every intention of improving on perfection. Seth had lettered several sheets of poster board with the information that the kennels would not formally open until more dogs had arrived, people were welcome to stroll along the viewing path for free, and please don't feed the dogs. We woke at sunrise. Because this was a special day, Pa left to pick up the workers. Ma dressed us, telling us to stay clean and not to talk to customers unless they talked to us first and to stay by the house and not to get in the way and to always be polite and not to yell or make noise unless someone wanted us to get in their car or go anywhere with them without Ma or Pa saying it was okay first, and then we were to scream for all we were worth. Little Bit didn't want to wear a dress. When Ma asked if she wanted to be a little lady, she gave a decided "No," so Ma let her wear shorts, T-shirt, and cowboy boots like Digger and me. According to the above context, answer the following question. Right after the end of this text:
Answer:
Workers will come to the restaurant