I was about 14 and lived near a large tract of undeveloped land where people would go and park to fool around. There was a dirt road through the tract, but further down, it crossed two huge concrete pipes. The dirt was washed out between them, and the deep gulch made it impossible to cross in a car. Sometimes, eight or ten of us would go looking for parked cars. If we found one or more, we would go move this incredibly heavy stump onto the road and lay a telephone pole across it. It took all of us and it was incredibly heavy. It was impossible to drive around it because of the ditches and there was no way two or three people could move it. We'd go back to the car and set off a big string of fire crackers or shake the cat and slap on it and run like crazy. We'd watch from the woods as they drove like heck and come to a screeching stop at our roadblock. The guy would get out and try to lift the pole. Never happen. Then the car would drive the other way. That wouldn't happen because of the pipes. We'd go home leaving them in there. This was before cell phones, and it was miles to a pay phone. We'd go back the next day and find the stump and pole moved. We thought it was real funny until one night we set it up and beat on the trunk of a car. A couple was inside, getting it on. We hadn't noticed a guy sitting on the hood with a bottle of booze and a pistol. As we ran, he was shooting and we could hear bullets going through the underbrush. No one was hit, thank goodness. That was the end of that stunt. Question: How did the pranksters feel after they were shot at? Options: A. not enough information B. Scared C. Excited D. Adventurous === The correct answer is
B

Everybody knew Shandor Marley's mother liked to spend more time flirting with serial killers than she did taking care of things at home. So when her son went round with an air rifle popping his neighbours like they were allotment pigeons, they figured all the boy really needed was a bit of attention. Shandor finally flipped one day after finding out the inbred farm boys who made his life hell most days were in fact his half-brothers. He returned home to confront his mother only to find her pritt-sticking press cuttings of the Mad Killer into a brand new scrapbook and seemingly not in the least bit concerned by her son's unexpected discovery. Luckily Shandor's shooting spree didn't do too much damage beyond putting one of his so-called new father's eyes out, which could be considered doubly unfortunate given as the so-called new father in question owned the old byre Shandor and his mother called home. After Shandor had spent enough time shut away in borstal with the kind of kids who would've sent his mother all weak at the knees, he went straight home half-expecting the byre to be boarded up with a blu-tacked note saying she was lugging her stupid arse to Texas to spring her latest psycho boyfriend from his cell on death row. Shandor was thinking how much that excuse would sit well with her as he scuffed up the stone track to the byre with a black bin-bag of belongings and a sunburned arm across his forehead to shield himself from the glare. The place looked pretty much the same as he remembered it, only three years worse off. The strip of grass outside the back door was parched yellow and paint peeled around the blown-out windows. He had a hand on the door before he knew for sure it was still lived-in. He flapped thunderbugs off his forearm and creaked open the door. The kitchen stank of stale cigarettes and the dregs of spirit bottles. Question: who found the identity of his father? Options: A. the sheriff B. not enough information C. Shandor did D. shandor's mother === The correct answer is
C

Q: Before we got married my husband and I lived in 4 different apartments all within the span of one year. The worst one of all of them was actually a great apartment, but our upstairs neighbors drove us positively insane. A list of their common antics: Blasting movies/music with the bass turned all the way up into the small hours of the morning, in their bedroom, which was directly above our bedroom Stomping, all day, every day, no matter what, always stomping. Sometimes running full speed around their apartment. It was a 1 bedroom and they had at least 4 adults (two couples) and at least 2 kids living there. They also always had company over. It was a nonsmoking complex but they smoked on their porch and tossed their butts over their balcony, which would leave them landing in our little porch. Constantly came out to find butts and trash in our potted plants and all over the ground. We had to call the sheriff on them once because one of the couples living there got in a very loud, very obvious domestic violence situation. We heard them screaming and throwing each other around. At one point the man smashed her head through the wall. The kicker was when they brought home one of those mini motorcycles and put it out on their porch. Their porch was made of slatted wood so there were gaps between the boards. The damn bike started leaking fuel (racing fuel no less) through the slats and on our porch (and all over our stuff). Ruined a table, some laundry I had air-drying out there and killed a few of our plants. Not only that but while this was happening they were throwing their butts down onto our porch too. Could have started a fire. Then there was the spitting. They would spit over the edge of their balcony and we complained so they started spitting THROUGH the floor boards so it was definitely intentional. I have never experienced a more trashy group of people. So glad to be out of that apartment and away from them now. Question: What were the worst actions committed by the neighbors who lived in the apartment upstairs? Options: A. Being extremely noisy all of the time B. not enough information C. Leaking racing gasoline through the floorboards onto plants, laundry, and table D. Spitting through the floorboards on the porch === The correct answer is
A: B