TASK DEFINITION: Write a question from the passage such that it identifies a character (a person or a thing) in the passage.
PROBLEM: The bright Sunday morning sun illuminated the stained glass windows, diffusing multi-colored hues across the congregation. Attendance is up today, thought Greg. As the organist was nearing the end of the Prelude, he stepped up to the podium.
"Please take your hymnals and turn to page 23, and let's stand and sing 'Holy, Holy, Holy.'"
Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning, our song shall rise to Thee...
As Greg sang and conducted the 4/4 pattern, which he could do in his sleep, his mind began to wander. Shouldn't he feel guilty about what he was thinking last night while kissing Cynthia on the couch? His actions had been within the bounds of acceptable behavior. He had nothing to be ashamed of in that regard.
But what about his thoughts? It wasn't what he did with Cynthia--it was what he wanted to do. He didn't want to dishonor her or his commitment to God. But his feelings had been only natural. God created humans and gave them sexual desire. Wasn't it okay to want to have sex, as long as you didn't actually do it? Then he remembered the passage from Matthew 5:28.
But I say to you, that whosoever shall look on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart.
At the end of the hymn, Greg stepped back and Dr. Huff went to the podium and said a prayer. Then there were announcements, two more hymns, and a chorus.
After the offering, it was time for the choir to sing their anthem. When Greg motioned to the choir to stand, Cynthia smiled at him from the Alto section. She was so incredibly beautiful. Standing there in her choir robe, she looked like a redheaded angel. If they could just get married, Greg could stop feeling guilty about his desire for her.

SOLUTION: Who went to the podium and said a prayer?

PROBLEM: "Did you ever have one of those days," inquired Julia of her cat, Cecil, who lay in the crook of her arm and was pushing his head into the fingers of Julia's right hand, "when you think you've noticed something everyone else has missed?"
Cecil didn't respond directly, but instead rubbed the side of his cheeks against the spine of Gravity's Rainbow which Julia held lopsidedly in her left hand.
"Pynchon keeps bleating about the preterit, right?" Cecil, who began licking his paw and washing his face, did not respond. "-and the elect who are out to destroy them, but he's the one who's treating his characters savagely. I mean, how can you go off on God for malpractice when you treat your characters like you treat cockroaches?" Cecil looked at her for a moment, and resumed washing.
"OK, listen to this: 'Nobody ever said a day has to be juggled into any kind of sense at day's end.' I can see that. But I don't throw you against the wall and call the universe evil, do I?" Cecil snorted a tiny snort through his nostrils.
"But as far as making trying to make sense of everything... I can see that. That's why I wonder sometimes. Like about Uncle Justin," she continued, aware that Cecil was now standing, arching his back, and attempting to find a comfortable position on her stomach, "who was a science teacher for twenty-two years, who gave up everything, just because... you know..."
Julia shook her head and returned the book to its level reading elevation.
As a matter of interest, Cecil did not know, but was content enough to curl up again, feeling Julia's hand press against his fur, causing his throat to vibrate with greater volume. That is, until the book slipped and roundly thumped Cecil on the head.

SOLUTION: Who did the book thump on the head?

PROBLEM: The next morning I called up my friend, Nick Unger, who worked for the police department. He agreed to meet me at the Casbah, a glorious little dive bar a few blocks from my apartment. It opened first thing in the morning, realizing the best drunks start early.
By the time he showed up I was already deep into my third drink and trying charm the bartender, Maggie, into comping my fourth. I was failing miserably as usual, but at least it was fun trying.
As soon as Nick walked through the front door, I slammed my palm down on the bar top. "Tricky Nicky! Have a drink, brother!"
He slid onto the bar stool beside me and smiled warmly at the bartender. "Has this low life been giving you grief, Maggie?"
She grinned at him. "Only since I opened the front door." Nick winked at her and ordered a half-pint of stout.
"Pansy," I scoffed and slammed the rest of my whiskey.
He shook his head. "God I miss you, you mad bastard. I can't imagine why Andrea won't let you come around the house anymore."
I shrugged. "I know, it's like as soon as she started squirting out brood, she suddenly gets all uptight about people starting fires in the middle of your living room."
"Imagine," he said as he raised his glass of beer.
I clinked my empty glass to his. "So guess who I ran into last night at Jenny's wedding?"
He shrugged.
"Brian Lopez."
He chuckled. "No shit. How is old Double-Dip?'
"Fat and sad," I replied while waving Maggie over for a refill. "And married to a smoking hottie. Well, married or engaged or whatever."
Nick nodded. "I met her. They were at a Police Union dinner around the holidays. She's a butterface."
I arched my eyebrow. "She had a face?"
Maggie rolled her eyes while she filled my glass. Nick caught her glance. "I know, he's got no class, but what are you gonna do?"
"Anyways," I continued, "she's way too hot for him, and that's not gonna end well. You just know that one of these days he's gonna come home and find her with the pool boy or some shit."

SOLUTION:
Who ran into Brian Lopez?

