Q: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: I don't reckon the sun's ever come up quite the same since the day it happened. I've been watching it for years now and to me it still don't look right somehow. Maybe it's just me thinking it, sending myself doolally after what I've done. But I swear every morning it creeps up and it's looking at me, all knowing like. And when you reckon the sun's acting like that over you there isn't a right lot you can do about it, beyond burying yourself away like a mole in the soil. That's what I've been doing more or less in the score or so years that have gone by since. But however tight I shut them curtains to stop that damn sun lighting me up, it still don't stop the inside of my head from pounding out the truth. No way it's ever going to stop harassing me neither, not unless the deaf and dumb lass was to happen right back on my doorstep and give me the chance to tell her that it wasn't never meant to work out this way. The deaf and dumb lass went by the name of Mitzi Barker. Her being deaf and dumb, she was the kind of lass you went up the lane with if you didn't want no-one shouting their gob off about it after. Funny but it's the small things I recall best about her, like the way her hair reeked of bonfires and how that little old checkered dress of hers rode right up her thigh with no help from me. After we'd finished our business we'd head over the trout farm and I'd hunker down and poach us up a couple of rainbows for our tea. That Mitzi Barker, she was thin as an ear of barley and I always figured a good nosh-up was the least I could do for her troubles. Question: Their relationship probably lasted? Options:  A. a few weeks  B. not enough information  C. a few months  D. a few years
A: A


Q: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: The sweet taste of cold and wood smoke hung in the air. Marlin rode low in the saddle, his shoulders curled against the hungry wind. His hat was pulled down tight and his eyes didn't move as he passed the crude shacks at the edge of town. He tied his horse in front of the saloon, unwinding his long body as if a sudden movement might snap it. He turned down the collar of his greatcoat and checked to make sure his big Army Colt was loose in its holster. The saloon door was a single chunk of white pine, still oozing sap, and he had to put his shoulder to it to force it open. The long room inside was quiet, and not much warmer than the street. Clusters of people sat nursing coffee and drinks, talking quietly if they talked at all. Marlin spotted a few farmers the railroad had brought in from Europe: rounded hats, nervous eyes, skin as red as blood. At the far end of the room a half-dozen cowboys turned over cards with patient boredom. Marlin walked up to the bar. "Whiskey," he said, and when the drink came he tossed it straight down and felt it pull his lips into a grimace. He nodded for a refill. When he turned to face the room they were all watching him. "I'm looking for a man named Kraamer," Marlin said. "Anybody here know of him?" One of the cowboys turned casually and rang the spittoon with a stream of tobacco juice. Marlin knew the long, thin face from somewhere, the blond hair that fell limply to his shoulders. He smiled at Marlin and showed his brown-stained teeth. Marlin felt the lines in his own face, the gray in his hair, the chill in his bones. He was too old for this. He set a half dollar on the bar and started for the door. "Don't get in a huff," the bartender said. Marlin looked back. "Kraamer lives about a mile west of town. Follow the railroad and take the first trail south." Question: Marlin was most likely in the saloon: Options:  A. For a half hour  B. For a couple of days  C. not enough information  D. All night
A: A


Q: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Luckily I was not the target or victim of this road rage, but I was a first hand witness. Back in the mid 1990s when I worked in Southern California, I was returning from lunch one day with a coworker when we noticed two pickup trucks driving erratically. This was on Valley View Blvd in Cerritos which is a large roadway divided (by a large, planted median strip) with 3 lanes on either side. One truck seemed to be chasing the other when suddenly the lead truck made a quick U-turn and was followed by the second truck. But the second truck came to stop just after making the turn. This was when the driver of that truck got out, walked to the front of his vehicle, raised his arm holding a semi-automatic handgun, paused, and then fired a single shot. At this point, I was parallel with the shooter’s truck and only about 50–60 feet from where he was standing. I remember my coworker exclaiming, “Oh sh*t! Did he just shoot at the something?!” I floored my accelerator and sped off to my workplace which was about a 1/2 mile down Valley View Blvd. I parked and my coworker and I got into the building as quickly as we could. While he started telling our other coworkers about what we had just witnessed, I ran to my desk, called 911, and reported the shooting. The dispatcher kept me on the line after my initial report and then transferred me to a detective in order to take down my information. As it turns out, my information and the fact that I called 911 immediately resulted in the arrest of the shooter. I was later asked to testify in court which resulted in the shooters conviction. I lived in Southern California for 10 years and now I drive a commercial truck several days a week so I have PLENTY of other “road rage stories”, but this is still the craziest one. Question: The author called the police: Options:  A. From a payphone a few seconds after the shooting  B. From work a few minutes after the shooting.  C. From the car as the shooting happened  D. not enough information
