(Question)
Old Zeke handed Justin his day's worth of mail and looked longingly at the cool shade under the porch, half hoping, half anticipating an invitation to enjoy a cool drink and a few minutes out of the sun. His state-of-the-art mail delivery vehicle, an old green Ford with busted air-conditioning, sometimes elicited sympathy from those along his route, but the ones with beer were the best. However, Justin just looked through his mail and then began watching the sky. "You ever think about gravity?" Justin asked suddenly. "No," admitted Old Zeke, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. Justin sighed a little. "You ever fall off your ladder?" "Well," considered Zeke. Damned if this wasn't a round-about way to offer a fella a drink, but maybe after all this Justin would offer him a beer instead of that watery lemonade he made. "Yeah." "How long did it take you to fall?" Well hell, muttered Old Zeke under his breath. Maybe all those stakes he was driving in had given Justin a touch of the sun. The thought made him consider hauling Justin back to town, although the truck might finish the job the sun had started. "A second or two," Zeke replied. But before he could load Justin into the truck, he figured he would have to collect a few things from the house, and maybe from the fridge he'd collect a few drinks... "That thing up there hasn't fallen a foot in ten minutes or so." Maybe Justin had a small bottle of something tucked away under the... "What thing?" Justin pointed. Zeke shielding his eyes with his hands and looked up. "Oh, that weather balloon?" Justin's expectant face seemed to droop. "That what it is?" "Yep. Looks like it's almost out of helium, the way it's floating so low. Launched 'em myself thirty years ago in the Army." What does Zeke want to drink?  A. Lemonade  B. not enough information  C. A beer  D. Water
(Answer)
C


(Question)
WASHINGTON — In 2004, Desmond Meade, while serving a 15-year prison sentence for a drug offense in Florida, got a break. An appeals court returned his conviction to the original trial bench, allowing him to plead guilty to a lesser charge and get out of prison in three years, most of which he had already served. But his freedom came with a price, something that didn’t quite register with him at the time: as part of his plea agreement with prosecutors, Meade agreed to give up his civil rights: the right to vote, to serve on a jury and to run for office. “At the time, when I first accepted the plea deal, I didn’t understand the consequences,” Meade says. Fourteen years and a pair of college and law degrees later, Meade, now 50, still can’t vote; his application to regain his civil rights was rejected in 2011. The reason: a new Florida law that requires felons like him to wait for seven years before they could apply for rights restoration. Home to nearly a quarter of the nation's disenfranchised felons, Florida has become a battleground in a national debate over felony disenfranchisement laws. With lawmakers deeply divided over the issue, Meade says he wants the state’s voters to change the system when they head to the polls on Nov. 6. He’s promoting a ballot initiative that would amend the state's constitution, restoring the voting rights of all felons in Florida (except those convicted of murder and sexual assault) after they’ve completed the terms of their sentence. The measure enjoys broad voter support. A Quinnipiac University poll conducted in February showed that 67 percent of Floridians were in favor of restoring the voting rights of felons other than those convicted of murder and sexual assault. Another poll showed support at 71 percent. “We’re going to change the system,” Meade says confidently. “What we’re doing is taking the power out of the hands of politicians and we’re allowing the citizens of the state of Florida to decide whether or not folks should have a second chance, to be able to vote.” Desmond Meade probably believes that:  A. voters in Florida support all felons.  B. not enough information  C. felons should be able to vote while in prison.  D. voters in Florida will support his ballot initiative.
(Answer)
D


(Question)
I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. After deciding to go to the hospital, where does the main character end up?  A. On a couch in the green room  B. In a loveseat in the waiting room  C. On a bench in the waiting room  D. not enough information
(Answer)

C