Question: 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. Who had a monster in his head? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Air Force - George Jordan - Telecom Sentrax
Answer: George Jordan

Question: My fraternal twins were born 2 months early. The staff had already stopped premature labor at six months gestation but it proceeded too quickly this time. Total labor 2.5 hours. Needless to say, they were tiny - female 2 lbs. 3 oz, male 3 lbs. 10 oz. Female was born dark blue - luckily, I was at the finest maternity hospital in this half of the State (McGee Women’s). They brought the female around to breathing, while I cried, thinking that she was dead. The twins were rushed to the NICU, too tiny to breast feed except with pumped milk through a feeding tube. Both were watched closely by doctors and nurses as they were not passing waste properly. The day it was decided that the male needed surgery, the female was discharged to home. The male was transferred to another very good hospital for surgery for a temporary colostomy. He was discharged to home after a week. What broke my heart was that I was allowed to visit him in the hospital but his older brother and twin sister were not allowed. Prior to his discharge, the staff instructed me in changing and maintaining his colostomy bag on a daily basis. He kept the colostomy bag until he was about 5 months old; back into the hospital for the colostomy reversal. The sign that I hung above their shared playpen said “Whatever doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger”. How did I cope with it? Mostly alone. The hospital offered group sessions for parents of severely premature infants. During the very first session, I had a zen realization that, once I realized that the circumstances were out of my control, I GAINED control of myself and my life. A bit like the Serenity Prayer. I shared that epiphany with the group and they looked at me like I had two heads. I had never heard of the Serenity Prayer and I’d been an atheist since age 13, so religion was not my go-to then, nor is it now. That realization helped. The twins are 37 now. How long were the group sessions? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - one half day - all weekend - one hour
Answer: one hour

Question: Went straight from a facility that deals with homeless children (492 1st Ave, Manhattan, New York) to the extreme outskirts of Queens near Kennedy Airport about 20 miles away. It was winter and I had no coat. I had my book bag and my sole Trader Joe’s bag of clothing and was loaded into a van with three social workers. During the long drive in traffic, I fell asleep, so waking up at my new home, I couldn’t make out any street signs and the numbering on the houses did not indicate whether I was in a home in the Bronx or Eastern Queens (which share the same street numbering in certain instances). My foster parents showed me my room and left a plate of food on the table. They barricaded themselves in their bedroom quite like how pilots barricade themselves behind the fortified cockpit door. However, my room didn’t have a lock, and neither did the bathroom. There were bars on my windows with a view of a church parking lot. I took great care to avoid waking a significantly older teen (I was 14, so he must have been 19–20) sleeping on the other bed. I heard two other kids (my foster siblings) in the other room playing music and giggling loudly at 3 in the morning. At 4 in the morning, my foster father started reading the Quran pretty loudly, and then he goes back to bed. In the morning, my foster parents are gone. My foster siblings are all sleeping. I got up at 7, but I don’t know how far I am from my high school, what buses/train will take me there, and still don’t know anything about anything about my new home. I don’t even know the names of those I’m relegated to living with. The unnerving strangeness and disorientation hat comes with knowing that your life has changed and the culture shock that comes with that is so scary and desensitizes you on that first day. Who showed him the room? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - his siblings - his girlfriend - his foster parents - not enough information
Answer:
his foster parents