Problem: 
Q: What are the worst examples of false advertising you've seen? Did you fall prey to their claims? Rather that vouch for myself - my story is trite, and not particularly interesting - I'll relay the tale one of my nurses shared with me when I was laid up in the hospital for a few weeks. Call her R. R was from an Eastern European country. We chit-chatted a lot, while she was taking my blood pressure readings and stuff. Lots of fun stories! But she relayed to me one of her first U.S. memories: She wanted to lose weight. She was impressed by some things the U.S. had to offer - "you have actual nutritional information on everything!" - and thus figured everything she encountered was on the level. And she found a "miracle cure" company who was along those lines! "These are AWESOME miracle shoe inserts! Wear them, and the pounds will melt away!" She saved her pennies and dimes; she sprung for the inserts. She received them... and they were shoe inserts; that much was true. But then there was their documentation: "using these insoles, combined with a 1200 calorie-per-day diet...." Like a 1200-calorie diet won't likely involve weight-loss, no matter what else you did, shoe inserts aside. The inserts did nothing, obviously. It was a sham. At which point she knew she was snookered, but really had no recourse. She wasn't explicit about it, but I got the feeling that it was a leading factor towards her chosen profession. "I might not have been the most sage medical person ever, but I'm gonna rectify that, and if ever I hear someone falling for that sort of gambit again, I'll be there to nip those sentiments in the bud with my own anecdotes." Which is awesome. I still feel for her. I wish I had contact information, so I could touch base, and express those thoughts personally. But that's the most personally resonant version of false advertising affecting someone that I've seen. Question: After receiving the inserts R is likely to be more: === The answer to the above question is
Answer: cautious.
Problem: 
Q: 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 checked to make sure his gun was able to be easily retrieved: === The answer to the above question is
Answer: Before entering the saloon
Problem: 
Q: Dara and Jody sat on the sun-scorched concrete with their backs against the bus shelter. They were sharing an apple, one of those tart green ones, and as Dara took her turn gnashing into it, Jody gagged and vomited up some peel. 'Shit, are you okay?' Dara asked, rubbing Jody's back. 'Um, yeah,' Jody croaked, and started to laugh. 'Just dying of apple peel.' Dara began to laugh too. Looking at the little pile of fruit skin and foam brought on more laughter, and they were both suddenly breathless but unable to cease the spasms of laughter hiccupping up from their stomachs. They had to lean on each other to save falling over, and even the tut-tut tongue-clicking of the old Italian lady having to divert around them on the footpath could barely stop the infinite but elusive humour. The bus droning into the stop enabled them some composure, but once on board just looking at each other was enough to start it up again. This was the coolest day Dara had had in forever. Jody and her had decided to wag school just that morning before rollcall, and despite her anxiety -- this was actually the first time Dara had ever wagged -- she was so, so glad she did. They were both in Year 11, and had only become friends three months earlier. They were from totally different scenes at school, but one maths lesson had changed all that. Jody had borrowed someone's correction fluid -- in fact it was Mr Dickinson, the teacher's correction fluid -- but it was borrowed from someone who'd borrowed it from him. At the end of the lesson Jody was packing her stuff up and didn't know what to do with the bottle of white-out, so she tossed it out the window of the classroom. Dara had seen her do it, and thought it was just so cool. Jody had done it not in the hope of getting attention, because no one was paying attention, they were all packing up their own crap as fast as possible; she'd just done it. Question: Who choked on the apple? === The answer to the above question is
Answer:
Jody