Problem: OPTIONS:
- Bar crawl.
- Search for hidden treasure.
- Look at people's private residences.
- not enough information
Q: PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots. He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking. He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration. "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul. "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting." "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. Question: What did people do an a Booty Hunt? === The answer to the above question is
Answer: Bar crawl.

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- He works in the hospital
- He sells used cars
- He sells drugs

I went over to a guy's house to see a movie that he had acted in. It was our first date. He starts the movie and I settle back to watch. I was in film school and the guy, Nick, had told me he wanted my "professional" opinion. We're five minutes into the movie when Nick reaches for the remote and says, "Let's fast forward to my part." I reply that, in order to adequately critique the movie, I should see it from the beginning. Nick assures me that his scene is self-contained and needs no context. A fight scene plays. Nick pauses and asks, "What did you think?" I look confused and Nick says, "Did you miss me? Let's play it again." I watch the scene again, but still can't make out Nick. Nick rewinds, plays and pauses. "There I am," he says, gazing fondly at the screen. Except the screen was gray. No actors. No landscape. Nothing, but gray snow. "What do you think," he asked, his eyes never leaving the empty screen. At that point, I realized Nick was crazy. "That's great!," I said. "But look at the time. Time sure flies when you're having fun." Nick was still staring at the screen with a strange little smile. I stood up. Nick stood up, now not smiling. "You're not going anywhere," Nick said. It's funny how fear works. I've found that in times of danger, adrenaline supersedes fear. I managed to trick Nick, hide from Nick and finally to escape after more than an hour of suspense. Turns out it wasn't even Nick's place. He had taken me to the house of someone he had ripped off in a drug deal. I am very wary now of going to a guy's home unless I know him extremely well. Question: What kind of work does Nick do? === The answer to the above question is
****
A: He sells drugs

input: OPTIONS:
- that Jody is cool
- that she is not fun
- not enough information
- that she is pretty Now, answer this question: Dara and Jody sat on the sun-scorched concrete with their backs against the bus shelter. They were sharing an apple, one of those tart green ones, and as Dara took her turn gnashing into it, Jody gagged and vomited up some peel. 'Shit, are you okay?' Dara asked, rubbing Jody's back. 'Um, yeah,' Jody croaked, and started to laugh. 'Just dying of apple peel.' Dara began to laugh too. Looking at the little pile of fruit skin and foam brought on more laughter, and they were both suddenly breathless but unable to cease the spasms of laughter hiccupping up from their stomachs. They had to lean on each other to save falling over, and even the tut-tut tongue-clicking of the old Italian lady having to divert around them on the footpath could barely stop the infinite but elusive humour. The bus droning into the stop enabled them some composure, but once on board just looking at each other was enough to start it up again. This was the coolest day Dara had had in forever. Jody and her had decided to wag school just that morning before rollcall, and despite her anxiety -- this was actually the first time Dara had ever wagged -- she was so, so glad she did. They were both in Year 11, and had only become friends three months earlier. They were from totally different scenes at school, but one maths lesson had changed all that. Jody had borrowed someone's correction fluid -- in fact it was Mr Dickinson, the teacher's correction fluid -- but it was borrowed from someone who'd borrowed it from him. At the end of the lesson Jody was packing her stuff up and didn't know what to do with the bottle of white-out, so she tossed it out the window of the classroom. Dara had seen her do it, and thought it was just so cool. Jody had done it not in the hope of getting attention, because no one was paying attention, they were all packing up their own crap as fast as possible; she'd just done it. Question: Dara thinks of Jody === The answer to the above question is
A:
output:
that Jody is cool