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. after the story ends, the character Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. stopped telling this story B. believes it's the moose's fault he was born early C. not enough information D. believes he was born premature
A

(Question)
I showed up at the address on Columbine's invitation just before eleven; it was a converted warehouse in an industrial zone on the city's north side. Since it was a Saturday night, everything else was empty for miles. The parking lot was filled with sports cars, hybrids, and shiny suburban tanks. The door facing the parking lot was open, spilling out muted lights and the din of yuppie chatter. It cast a somewhat foreboding aura over the entrance. The first thing I noticed as I approached was the beefy refrigerator in a rented tux blocking the doorway. The second thing was the surveillance camera perched on the wall above his head. I had stopped home and changed first, so I was sure I was dressed mostly appropriately for some rich faux-hipster art party - charcoal gray pinstripe jacket over a TV on the Radio t-shirt, skinny cuffed jeans, Docs, and a black fedora. I certainly didn't look any worse than the other idiots I saw filing in and out of the door. I even had an invitation. So I was fairly confident I'd be able to gain admission to this thing without incident. "No, absolutely not," the doorman said, pressing a meaty palm into my chest. "I was invited!" I said, exasperated. "I have documentation." I waved the rave card in front of his face. "No dice." I stepped aside to let a couple of aging goths through the door and wondered for a moment if the doorman somehow knew who I was. Then I noticed the ear piece he was wearing and my eyes darted back to the surveillance camera. "Motherfucker," I spat and raised both arms to flip off the camera. I didn't know it at the time, but at that moment Dylan Maxwell was sitting in front of a wall of monitors, laughing his ass off. Why does the narrator believe he should be allowed entry? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. not enough information B. Because he is a cop. C. Because he has an invitation. D. Because he is important.
(Answer)
C

Ques:My father lost something valuable to him that didn't resurface for years after his death. My dad was a World War II veteran and an officer. All officers were issued the classic Ray Ban sunglasses with the wraparound wire rims. He wore them almost all the time for the next thirty years after the War, then one day in the 1970's, he misplaced them. He was heartbroken, crestfallen, that he lost something he cherished from his military servicethe symbolic military issue Bausch & Lombs coveted by every officer who served. I wanted so badly to be my dad's Hero. I overturned every piece of furniture in the house, rifled every dresser drawer, every nook and crannie, underneath beds, the garage, the yard, you name it. I was on a Mission. I wanted to walk up to him and say, beaming, Here Dad! I found your sunglasses! But alas, after several weeks, no success. I was crushed by my own failure. He passed away, and his possessions were divided among our family. Fast forward to a few years ago. My Cocker Spaniel was sniffing around in the bathroom, and a box fell out of the bathroom closet with a crash. I went to investigate and chide the dogwhen the first thing I saw on the bathroom floor next to the overturned box was the yellowed leather case, and his wire rim sunglasses. I picked it up, held it in my hand, and I, a grown man, immediately burst into tears, sobbing. Suddenly, I was nineteen again. My wife asked what was the matter, and I told her the whole story. I figured after his passing, his sunglasseswhich evidently were in the house the whole timewere probably tossed into one of many anonymous cardboard boxes, and I happened to be the one who carried off the box containing them. So here Dad! I found your sunglasses! I love you! Am I still your hero? What were the Ray Bans equipped with? Pick the correct answer from the following options: A. a glass rim B. a wraparound wire rim C. not enough information D. a plastic rim

Ans:
B