My Pa disappeared somewhere in the wilds of 1975, when I was just fourteen years old. He was the Ambassador to 1975, but back home in 1898, in New Jerusalem, Utah, they all thought he was Ambassador to France. When he disappeared, Mama and I came back through the triple-bolted door that led from our apt in 1975 to our horsebarn in 1898. We returned to the dusty streets of New Jerusalem, and I had to keep on reminding myself that I was supposed to have been in France, and 'polly-voo' for my chums, and tell whoppers about the Eiffel Tower and the fancy bread and the snails and frogs we'd eaten. I was born in New Jerusalem, and raised there till I was ten. Then, one summer's day, my Pa sat me on his knee and told me we'd be going away for a while, that he had a new job. 'But what about the store?' I said, scandalised. My Pa's wonderful store, the only General Store in town not run by the Saints, was my second home. I'd spent my whole life crawling and then walking on the dusty wooden floors, checking stock and unpacking crates with waybills from exotic places like Salt Lake City and even San Francisco. Pa looked uncomfortable. 'Mr Johnstone is buying it.' My mouth dropped. James H Johnstone was as dandified a city-slicker as you'd ever hope to meet. He'd blown into town on the weekly Zephyr Speedball, and skinny Tommy Benson had hauled his three huge steamer trunks to the cowboy hotel. He'd tipped Tommy two dollars, in Wells-Fargo notes, and later, in the empty lot behind the smithy, all the kids in New Jerusalem had gathered 'round Tommy to goggle at the small fortune in queer, never-seen bills. 'Pa, no!' I said, without thinking. I knew that if my chums ordered their fathers around like that, they'd get a whipping, but my Pa almost never whipped me. Question: after the end of this story, the narrator is: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- sick
- not enough information
- upset
- happy

Answer: upset

Question: "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: Do Ray and Pete know each other in real life? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- No, they haven't met.
- not enough information
- Yes, they work together
- Yes, they are brothers
Answer: No, they haven't met.

Question: My daughter was away at college preparing for her final exams and nursing boards. I knew that my daughter's cat, who has been part of our family since my daughter was in second grade, was dying of a fast growing cancer. I couldn't tell my daughter because I didn't want to upset her and take her mind off her studies and impending graduation. Once our Vet determined that there was nothing further that could be done she showed me how to give pain meds and fluids at home to keep her comfortable in hopes that she would live long enough to allow my daughter to say goodbye after her graduation. The entire week I stayed with our cat around the clock. She had completely stopped eating and drinking and was slowly dying before my eyes. She slept most of the time except when I had to put the needle in between her shoulder blades to give her fluids. Then she would cry quietly and look at me with pleading eyes. Her breathing was becoming so shallow that I had to get close to her and listen to see if she was still alive. After a week of this I began to realize that the most unselfish thing I could do for this beautiful creature was to let her go. I wrapped her in her favorite blanket and and drove her to our Vets office after they had closed for the day. She was so skinny and frail but when I held her close she still purred. I thanked her for the 14 years she had been one of my daughter's closest companions and I held her as she took her last breath. I was afraid my daughter was going to be angry with me when I told her that i made the decision with out giving her time to say goodbye. She was sad but understood that I did the kindest thing I could have done for her kitty. Question: After the end of this story, the daughter probably: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Failed her exams.
- not enough information
- Grieved the cat.
- Finished her classes.
Answer:
Grieved the cat.