Question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: When she's in the mood to push my buttons, my significant other, the delightful and charming Ms. D, frequently alludes to the questionable timeline concerning my birth date. She derives much mirth from the fact that I was born something less than nine or ten months after my parents wed and hints that this indicates a certain amount of premarital hanky-panky. Standing on my dignity ('cause it's higher than the coffee table), my reply is that I have it on good authority that I owe my early entry into the world to Tabusintac Hill. Said hill was once considered to be an abomination of the first water. The Tabusintac, like all hills, had an up and a down. In this case, the up and down were distinguished from each other by a sharp curve at the bottom. The main North/South New Brunswick highway slavishly followed the hill's contours. If you were heading north, the road led you into a ravine and you were faced with a steep uphill incline that, in winter presented a challenge to at least half the vehicles trying to climb it. In true snow country fashion, steep, icy hills were conquered by getting a running start, building up a lot of speed and praying that Mr. Newton's rules concerning inertia would work in your favour. Headed south, the problem became keeping your car under control so that you didn't go shooting into the trees when the road curved to the left. My parents were taking a trip to the Miramachi in December of '56 and were driving a Pontiac borrowed from one of my father's friends. My mother was pregnant with a bundle of bad attitude and misery that would turn out to be me. I assume that my father was driving with that mix of panache and insouciance that my mother tended to describe as reckless behaviour. In any case, as he rounded the corner at the top of the hill, the road was apparently free of snow and ice and there was no reason to slowdown. Until the moose stepped out onto the road just ahead of them. Question: what I responded to mrs D Answer:
OPTIONS:
- I owe my early entry into the world to Tabusintac Hill
- I owe my early entry into the world to South Hill
- I owe my early entry into the world to Pontiac Hill
- not enough information
Answer: I owe my early entry into the world to Tabusintac Hill

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: "Hey, guy." "No, this is Ray." He smiled, leaned back in his chair. It was, of course, Pete. Pete was the night shift guy at Crossroads Detox across town. Ray called it the Jesus Shop because it was wholly supported by a contingent of local churches who saw addicts as a potential ministry. Apparently Jesus saved--not only from sin and hell, but also from Dark Eyed Jim Beam. Pete was a relatively innocuous born again fundie who volunteered his time two or three nights a week. When he was not saving the world, his Clark Kent was actually a steady CPA job with the local H&R Block. He'd been pulling shifts for about six months, knew nothing about drugs beyond that bad people used them to escape their problems and that they were tools of Satan, and he always needed Ray's advice about one thing or another. This arrangement was not problematic as Pete had long ago given up trying to convert him. Pete was also the only guy in the city who was, as Ray figured it, making less money than he was at such an hour. In return for Ray's magnanimity, Pete had done Ray's taxes for free last year. They had never actually met, though Ray had faxed him the tax forms and Pete had faxed back a photo of his two pre-teen daughters and his geriatric Lab. "What's the problem?" Ray asked. "I have a recalcitrant." That's what he called them, the drunk and definitely disorderly. Pete's vocabulary did not include the word shithead either in its singular or plural. "Pete, they're all like that. Alcohol is bad medicine. That's why places like ours are in business. To make them calcitrant." "I know that." Pete sounded a little annoyed. There was some commotion in the background, a knocking on doors. Question: What Ray thinks about Pete's volunteering? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- Pete is overqualified for the position
- Pete is saving the world
- Pete is saving money
- not enough information
output: Pete is saving the world

Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Overnight the clouds had rolled in and the summer was dead. I sat at my office window and drank coffee, looking out on a dirty brown Saturday that smelled like rain. Somebody knocked at the door and I swiveled around to see Pete McGreggor from down the hall. "Busy?" he asked. I shook my head and he came in, closing the door behind him. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down across from me. "Big shakeup last night," he said. "I just got a call to defend one of the Preacher's errand boys." "So they finally got to him," I said, remembering the furor that had raged in the newspapers a few months before. The law had never been able to break up the Preacher's drug operation, even though it was notorious as the biggest in Texas. "How'd they do it?" "It's very hush-hush," he said, steam from his coffee making his hair seem to ripple. "They squelched the story at the papers, hoping to pull in a couple more fish, I guess. But what I gather is that the thing was pulled off from the inside, from somebody high up in the organization. But nobody knows exactly who it was that sold out." "It'll all come clean at the trial, I suppose." He nodded. "Sooner than that, I expect. The DA told me confidentially that they'll have everything they need by five o'clock tonight. You'll see it all on the evening news." A sharp rapping came at the door and Pete stood up. "You've got business. I'll leave you to it." "It's probably bill collectors," I said. "I'll yell if they get rough." He opened the door and pushed past the two policemen that were waiting outside. They were both in uniform, but I only knew one of them. That was Brady, the tall, curly headed one that looked like an Irish middleweight. His partner was dark and nondescript, sporting a Police Academy moustache. Question: What had raged a few months before "they finally got to him"? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- A furor raged in the newspapers
- Drug arrests
- Many skipped town

A:
A furor raged in the newspapers