Q: "Maybe we're being too harsh with the letter," said Janine. "Hon, as his parents we have a responsibility to his well being," said Bob. "I know but I just think he doesn't need this added pressure." "Jan, I'll be damned if I'm gonna support and house a drug addict." "I just think maybe he's going through tough times or something. He told me the other day he wanted to see a therapist." "Hmm." "Maybe there's something going on we don't understand. I mean didn't he seem a little paranoid to you today at lunch?" "Paranoia is a side-effect of the marijuana." "Well I still think we are being a little harsh, I mean, we can't just throw our son out on the street." "Babe, its our job to be harsh when it comes to this kind of stuff. It's for his own good. Either he chooses to keep living rent free in the condo without the pot or he chooses to ruin his life." "I know but don't you think we should let this little phase run its course? I mean, we're not entirely innocent ourselves. Eventually he's gonna want to stop smoking pot," "I don't know if he is, Jan. He's expressed to me several times that he has no interest in quitting." "He's said that to me too." "Well I think that's a pretty big red flag, don't you?" "Yes." "He needs to get his priorities in order and realize that drugs aren't gonna do him any good. If we have to force him to do that then that's what has to be done. I mean, tell me you haven't had any difficulty falling asleep at night with the notion that our sons are drug addicts." "Well at least Ben has a job and is paying his own rent." "I know but those people he hangs out with, Mack and Allison, those dopers that spend their time smoking weed, they...they're our age, and did you see their house, the stacks of books and newspapers and the marijuana pipes laying on the coffee table? It sickens me that there are people out there like that." Question: How does Bob feel about marijuana? Options: - He thinks it's no good - He thinks it is for older people - He thinks it is good - not enough information === The correct answer is
A: He thinks it's no good

Q: Yes, it's actually happened to me before. Let me explain before I get called irresponsible, or incapable of having a dog, or incompetent, My dog is my baby, since the day I got her we've been inseparable. I learned from this mistake and have taken every precaution to prevent it from happening again. She was uninjured luckily, but I was freaking traumatized. I have a SUUUUPPPPEEEERRR long driveway, so I usually drive my truck to the end to check my mail, and on this particular day, I was out in my yard playing with Roxie, I saw the mailman drive by through my fence, and so we walked back to the house, I grabbed my keys, and off we went. This wasn't too long ago, maybe May, so it's hot, typical North Carolina weather, maybe 92 and some change, so my windows are down, because I drive a 13 year old black truck, so it's hot as hell, and it makes it hard to breathe. The AC works, it just takes time to kick in, and number 5 (my highest AC setting) does not work. As I'm driving down, I'm going maybe 5 miles an hour. I'm petting Roxie with my right hand when I feel her jerk out of my reach and I hear a bush rustle, I look to the passenger side, slam on brakes (because the last thing I want is to hurt my baby) and put the truck in park. Sure enough, my mom and her Chihuahua were out in the front yard, and Roxie, being her playful self jumped out and ran. She scared the absolute shit out of me, so now when I drive with her in the car, the window stays shut or cracked. Lesson learned. Question: Who walked back to the house? Options: - the woman and her dog - the woman and her mother - her mother and her dog - not enough information === The correct answer is
A: the woman and her dog

Q: I ducked, Cerberus pounced, and Mr. Waciejowski screamed like a dying ferret--a soothing and pleasant sound under most other circumstances, but now only distracting. I felt the rush of air against my face as the crowbar skimmed my head. The man wielding it was in a black three-piece suit and built like a Texas linebacker. His mass seemed to bend space-time in the parking lot as he barreled down on me. All I could see was nearly seven feet of Armani silk. I stood upright and brought my knee into his groin and gave him a swift elbow in the small of his back and a fist to the base of his skull. Now, I wasn't the biggest guy in the world, but I certainly wasn't the smallest either. And I was also acutely aware of how much damage I could do to another human being. But this hulking mass in Italian finery didn't even seem phased. The blows I sent this guy should have dropped him like a bag of wet cement, but he just turned and hamstringed me with that damn crowbar. I fell so hard that one of my teeth chipped. The box flew out of my grip and landed just a few feet away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Pete on the ground, fumbling with his cell phone while Cerberus mauled another suit trying to sneak up behind me. If the fall hadn't knocked the wind out of me, seeing Cerberus tear into this guy certainly would have. The dog was all fangs and fur, making sounds like construction machinery. Thick and heavy. The guy was screaming all kinds of nonsense as he kept his shredded arms in front of his face and neck. Blood and fabric flew about as the animal tossed its head in violent arcs. Question: The narrator belives Options: - His opponent is weak - His opponent is very strong - not enough information - His opponent is small === The correct answer is
A: His opponent is very strong