Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: I'm know 21 so I'm going to count that still as a kid because the world is still new to me. I work know security and one night at around 2am I walked in the bathroom because a customer complained about a man yelling in the bathroom. I told my partner I would go check it out by myself so he could stay and keep quality control of who comes in the venue. I walk in and in the first cubicle I could see lots and lots of blood on the floor and a pair of feet placed as if he was sitting down. I quickly go to the next cubicle asking at the same time if the person was OK obviously with no response. I look over and it was a horrible bloody mess. I quickly get on the radio and tell my partner to call police and ambulance and to put the place on lock down. I walk around to the from of the cubicle and kick open the door. The man had grabbed a straight razor and cut his arms extremely deep from the wrist downwards all the way to his elbow palms up. On both arms mind you. A good example of what it would look like would be the scene from the terminator 2 where Arnold cuts the skin off from his arm. The ambulance came and had to call another team to collect the body. The building was closed for around a day and a half they had to repaint and do all sorts of things because of so much blood. Ill say they do not train you for seeing such horrible things or even mention that it can happen I'm lucky enough to have a strong head and can handle seeing such horror. Of course Im not 100% OK from it and now keep a close eye on the bathrooms. But I'm OK enough to continue working and only saw a psychologist twice about it. So yea that's the worst thing I have seen In my life. Question: Where did the ambulance take the man who cut himself? Options: - not enough information - to his home - to a doctor - to the hospital
to the hospital

Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Jason had been sitting alone at his table, staring at the tall, platinum blonde for an hour. His imagination ran wild with thoughts of kissing her full lips while his hands explored her lean, muscled body. Tonight he didn't need the whiskey to warm him up. But he kept drinking it anyway. She stepped away from the mike, sat her acoustic guitar on its stand, and walked down from the small stage. Jason beat all the other losers to the bar and sat down beside her. "You must be pretty thirsty after all that beautiful singing." How many times had she heard that line? But at age 33, she'd probably heard every pickup line known to man. "Yeah," she said, giving him a quick glance. He wasn't a bad looking guy. Probably a couple of inches shorter than her. At six-foot-two, she was accustomed to that. But a lot of men couldn't deal with her height. They liked to be the tall one in the relationship. Not that she'd had many relationships. Mostly one-nighters. Without her saying a word, the bartender sat a glass of ice down in front of her, and poured her a can of Diet Coke. "Thanks, Joe." She took a sip as he walked away. "I'm Jason." "Sondra," she said, looking straight ahead as she took another sip. "I really enjoyed your music--especially that last song. Did you write it yourself?" "Yeah." "Wow. It was sad, but moving. You've got talent." Here we go, she thought. And I suppose you're a talent agent or a record producer, or you've got a friend in the business. And you'd be more than happy to get me a record deal--assuming I'd be willing to go with you right now to some sleazy motel. "I'm sick of this business. In fact, you just heard my last performance. First thing Monday morning I'm going out to find me a real job. One that will pay the bills." Question: What is probably true about Jason? Options: - he does not like women - he likes lean women - he likes chubby women - not enough information
he likes lean women

Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Dark meat in the can--brown, oily, and flecked with mucus--gave off a repellent, fishy smell, and the taste of it rose in his throat, putrid and bitter, like something from a dead man's stomach. George Jordan sat on the kitchen floor and vomited, then pushed himself away from the shining pool, which looked very much like what remained in the can. He thought, No, this won't do: I have wires in my head, and they make me eat cat food. The snake likes cat food He needed help but know there was little point in calling the Air Force. He'd tried them, and there was no way they were going to admit responsibility for the monster in his head. What George called the snake, the Air Force called Effective Human Interface Technology and didn't want to hear about any postdischarge problems with it. They had their own problems with congressional committees investigating "the conduct of the war in Thailand." He lay for a while with his cheek on the cold linoleum, got up and rinsed his mouth in the sink, then stuck his head under the faucet and ran cold water over it, thinking, Call the goddamned multicomp, then call SenTrax and say, "Is it true you can do something about this incubus that wants to take possession of my soul?" And if they ask you, "What's your problem?" you say "cat food," and maybe they'll say, "Hell, it just wants to take possession of your lunch" A chair covered in brown corduroy stood in the middle of the barren living room, a white telephone on the floor beside it, a television flat against the opposite waIl--that was the whole thing, what might have been home, if it weren't for the snake. He picked up the phone, called up the directory on its screen, and keyed TELECOM SENTRAX. Question: What did George lay on for a while? Options: - Something fishy. - not enough information - Something cold. - Something oily.
Something cold.