text:
Hot dog store thrives in vegetarian vortex

 Wednesday, Oct 9 1996

They say that every dog has its day. In this reputedly liberal college town, maybe that old chestnut should be amended to include hot dogs.

At Top Dog in Berkeley, just south of the woodsy University of California campus, meat and libertarian thought have ruled for three decades. Customers waiting for German franks and hot links on a bun can read the walls, which are covered with libertarian bumper stickers, yellowed newspaper articles urging the privatization of the postal service, and hand-lettered signs with statements like, "Beware the leader" and "There's no government like no government."

Top Dog's contrast with its surroundings could not be more noticeable. The Free Speech, civil rights, and anti-Vietnam War movements all thrived here. The city council at times appears to prefer debating Big Issues, condemning apartheid in South Africa and establishing sister-city relations with a Palestinian refugee camp. A policy tempest this past spring swirled around establishing sister-city status with Changde, in China's Hunan province, then immediately suspending it to protest Beijing's human rights record.

Accompanying Berkeley's tradition of protest has been a long-term swing away from meat-centered eating, inspired in part by books like Frances Moore Lappe's Diet for a Small Planet, which still is in print after 25 years. Some of the country's finest vegetarian cuisine can now be found here, and meat has largely been on the run.

But not at Top Dog, celebrating its 30th anniversary as a bastion of carnivorous delights. On Durant, just east of the jammed, patchouli-scented shopping area on Telegraph, proprietor Dick Riemann oversees the management of two Berkeley meateries and checks in with his wife, Irene, who runs a third store in Oakland.

Asked how he accounts for a libertarian hot-dog shop's success in a notoriously vegetarian town, Riemann, 60, says, "[Berkeley]'s openly socialistic, whether or not they admit to it or even know it, [but] they still get hungry. We're not out there clobbering them with points of view; many people just ignore stuff I put out."

After an early-'50s stint in the Air Force and a brief teaching career, the Yonkers, N.Y., native and a buddy from Syracuse decided that California was ready for East Coast hot dogs.

The two opened the first shop in October 1966. "We opened on a Saturday morning with the paint still kind of wet on the floor. Bingo, we were immediately just mobbed. What we had failed to recognize was that it was a home football game day. You talk about a trial by fire."

Top Dog's libertarian angle became prominent after Riemann bought out his partner a year and a half later. Before launching Top Dog, he had run unsuccessfully for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1965, garnering a respectable 9,300 votes on an anti-government platform. "Man's welfare equals natural resources plus human energy multiplied by tool efficiency," he wrote in that year's voter pamphlet. "Progress depends on investment-inspired profits. Down with government-initiated restrictions, destruction, and tyranny." And, far in advance of today's headlines, he wrote, "Up with free trade between freemen!" With his lower-key friend out of the picture, he was free to turn up the libertarian message.

Thirty years down the road, a sign inside Top Dog reads, "Politicians Unwelcome," and government regulation remains unpopular. As an example, Riemann points to a California Dept. of Fair Employment and Housing sheet headlined, "Watch Your Language!" The one-page missive warns employers against publishing "discriminatory and potentially discriminatory job specifications," listing examples of language to be avoided.

Some, like "draftsman" and "girl Friday," might strike many as justly banned, but the sheet also warns against innocuous terms like "student" and "honorable discharge." Riemann sees this as an affront to free speech, saying, "Where is George Orwell when we need him?"

The local health department also comes in for criticism (though Riemann does follow its rules). "I don't need a health department to tell me to handle food in an appropriate manner -- my customers would hand me my bank account on a bun if I didn't measure up to their standards. They can see what's going on," he says.

Indeed they can. A visitor to the Durant Top Dog could practically reach the grill, where at least five of the 10 available varieties of sausage seemed to be cooking at all times. The cook works right up against the counter, which features half a dozen stools for customers, all of whom are unashamed to celebrate being on top of the food chain. Most business seems to be take-out.

"I can probably trip over a minor [health] requirement here and there, but listen: You don't feed this many people for 30 years, you don't make a million dollars by poisoning people," Riemann says with some satisfaction -- if not without a little exaggeration.

He also objects to what he says are Berkeley's attempts to regulate his stores' hours -- they are open far into the night and have a late rush from bar closures -- and their customers' smoking habits. A reformed three-packs-a-day man, he nonetheless dislikes "dictating as to smoking on your own property -- where the hell do they get off telling me that I have to exclude smokers from here?" The government, he says, is not paying the rent and taxes on what is technically a private space. "It's not public property just because I cater to the public," he says.

Without any real competition locally, Riemann has tried franchising Top Dog, only to run into what he says are intractable regulations. "They've made franchising so onerous and laced with legality [in the United States]. ... I want to operate in and on free turf. I don't want to just stick my ass in the air and give the politicians more to aim at."

Looking overseas, he tried several years ago to franchise the Top Dog name in hyper-capitalistic Hong Kong, only to have a freak accident sink the business. A crowd celebrating New Year's Eve had gathered on the old cobblestone street just uphill from Top Dog Hong Kong, overlooking the city's financial district.

"I guess too many drinks were spilled and some of them started sliding downhill," he recalls, describing a horrifying scene of hundreds of revelers slipping down smooth, slimy cobblestones to their deaths. "Twenty-three people lost their lives in a matter of moments just being crushed and thrown into storefronts, fire hydrants, and what have you."

Afterward, Riemann says, "The older Chinese [had] this point of view that where there is violent death you should not go for seven weeks. So the bottom fell out of that market."

Riemann currently is looking at the Czech Republic -- with its stronger connection to sausages and hot dogs -- for his next franchising attempt. "It's the fastest-growing economy in Europe," he says, although "why they want to join the [European] common market leaves me cold."

In between answering questions, he takes phone orders for hot dogs and potato salad. Maintaining high quality is an issue for Riemann, who has hot dogs that are unavailable here trucked in from New York. "You'll never see a skinless hot dog at Top Dog," he says, launching into tube-steak thermodynamics. "A natural casing will permit smoke and the taste thereof to penetrate the membrane osmotically but not to leave again. And so a sausage with a natural casing will hold onto its taste better. But that is not the case with artificial casings, and skinless have no chance at all."

Riemann isn't fanatically pro-meat, however. "A few people have stepped up to say over the years, 'Why don't you have veggie dogs?' ... I'd love to have veggie dogs," he states, "but where is it? I've tried everything," he states. "The last one almost had the texture of chopped-up inner tube."

He has tried to contact the makers of veggie burgers -- some of which he finds tasty -- about making vegetarian sausages that he can use. "If you can make a [vegetarian] hamburger patty that is palatable, well what the hell, instead of a patty make a sausage form."

The commercial brands he has tried came up short. Practical considerations are critical, Riemann says. A veggie sausage "is going to stick and burn, it doesn't generate enough moisture from within, and, admittedly, fat. There has to be a certain amount of fat to fry a sausage."

The times just may be catching up to Top Dog. The Berkeley campus, once the scene of riots and the burning in effigy of then-governor Ronald Reagan, is noticeably more conservative in the '90s. Local legend Country Joe McDonald, famed for his anti-war ditty "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag," spearheaded the drive for a memorial to Berkeley's 22 Vietnam War casualties.

Perhaps meat will one day regain its place of honor at our tables, but until then Top Dog will continue to lurk on the political and gastronomic outskirts of Berkeley. Riemann is sure the market will provide.

"If you want a better future, stick to the Yellow Pages. There's your leadership. For all its flaws -- and I don't say that people are perfect any more than I think I'm perfect -- you get your best chance of getting what you want out of life with a viable marketplace.

question: What does the text say about Dick Riemann?

text: "Reimann is a librarian" - this is incorrect. He is a libertarian.

text: "while his buddy runs the third store in Oakland" - this is inaccurate. His wife runs the Oakland store.

answer: Dick Reimann is the 60-year old proprietor of Top Dog. He was with the Air Force in the '50s and briefly went into teaching. Originally from Yonkers, New York, Reimann moved to California to sell East Coast hot dogs. Reimann is a librarian who unsuccessfully ran for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1965 on an anti-government platform. Reimann runs two of the Top Dog shops in Berkeley, while his buddy runs the third store in Oakland.

text: Reimann is a libertarian, not a librarian.

text: "While his buddy runs the third store in Oakland," is unnecessary and should be removed.

category: other

category_text: unnecessary info

answer: Dick Riemann is the proprietor of Top Dog hot dog stores in California. He is a native of Yonkers, NY. Riemann served in the Air Force and taught for a brief period before opening his first hot dog store in 1966. He is a staunch libertarian and continues to run his stores with a libertarian angle.

answer: Dick Reimann is the 60-year old proprietor of Top Dog. He was with the Air Force in the '50s and briefly went into teaching. Originally from Yonkers, New York, Reimann moved to California to sell East Coast hot dogs. Reimann is a libertarian who unsuccessfully ran for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1965 on an anti-government platform. Reimann runs two of the Top Dog shops in Berkeley, while his wife runs the third store in Oakland.

text:
The answer should state that Riemann started Top Dog with a friend from Syracuse. However, Top Dog's libertarian angle became prominent after Riemann bought out his partner a year and a half later.
It should state that Riemann sees innocuous terms such as "student" and "honorable discharge" as an affront to free speech.
Mention that Riemann also follows the local health department's rules and believes he doesn't need a health department to tell him to handle food appropriately.
Mention that Riemann has tried franchising Top Dog without any real competition locally, only to run into what he believes are intractable regulations.
The answer should state that Riemann was looking at the Czech Republic for his next franchising attempt at the time of this article because it's the fastest-growing economy in Europe with its stronger connection to sausages and hot dogs.
It should state that Riemann isn't fanatically pro-meat and has had customers requesting veggie dogs. According to him, a veggie sausage would stick and burn. It doesn't generate enough moisture from within and doesn't have fat.

answer: Dick Riemann is the proprietor of Top Dog hot dog stores in California. He is a native of Yonkers, NY. Riemann served in the Air Force and taught for a brief period before opening his first hot dog store in 1966. He is a staunch libertarian and continues to run his stores with a libertarian angle.

text: The answer omits Riemann's political career.

text: The answer should mention Riemann's political career.

text: The answer omits Riemann's attempt to franchise Top Dog in Hong Kong.

text: It's omitted that Riemann is 60 years old.

text: The answer should mention Riemann's attempt at franchising.

text: Anti-government rather than libertarian is probably more accurate

answer: Dick Reimann is the 60-year old proprietor of Top Dog. He was with the Air Force in the '50s and briefly went into teaching. Originally from Yonkers, New York, Reimann moved to California to sell East Coast hot dogs. Reimann is a librarian who unsuccessfully ran for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1965 on an anti-government platform. Reimann runs two of the Top Dog shops in Berkeley, while his buddy runs the third store in Oakland.

text: The answer should mention Riemann's political leanings.

text: "Reimann is a librarian" - this is incorrect. He was a teacher.

text: Riemann is not a librarian.

text: The article doesn't mention that Reimann is a librarian.

text: "Reimann is a librarian" - this is incorrect. There is no mention of Reimann being a librarian. This should be removed.

text: The response includes extraneous information not useful for the task.

answer: Dick Reimann is the 60-year old proprietor of Top Dog. He was with the Air Force in the '50s and briefly went into teaching. Originally from Yonkers, New York, Reimann moved to California to sell East Coast hot dogs. Reimann is a libertarian who unsuccessfully ran for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1965 on an anti-government platform. Reimann runs two of the Top Dog shops in Berkeley, while his wife runs the third store in Oakland.

text: The answer should mention Riemann's attempts to franchise Top Dog.

text: The answer omits that Reimann is looking to expand his business to the Czech Republic.

text: The answer could mention his views on government regulation.

text: The answer should mention why Riemann is interested in operating in the Czech Republic.

text: The answer should mention Riemann's failed attempts at franchising.


text:
The actual number of yearly removals ICE is making in the interior of the country, not counting the border, is still a tiny figure: about 81,000 illegal aliens in the most recent fiscal year.  Given that there are more than ten million illegal aliens in the country, removing even a fraction of them will take a long time.

The problem is that ICE doesn't have the manpower to deport millions of aliens.  Donald Trump wants to expand their manpower, but so far Congress has not cooperated.

This is not ICE's fault.

What is ICE's fault, however, is how it uses the existing manpower it has.  The raid on the ninety-eight 7-11 stores must have involved hundreds of ICE agents, but it netted only 21 illegal aliens.  It's great that businesses like 7-11 are given notice that employing illegals is no longer acceptable, but raids like this show that ICE is using its limited manpower terribly inefficiently.

Part of the problem is the leadership.  ICE is led by an Obama-era holdover named Thomas Homan.  Incredibly, nearly a year after taking office, President Trump still had not appointed his own nominee to run the most important agency related to his most important campaign issue.  He finally relented in November...deciding to nominate Homan, the acting director, to take the job on an official basis.

Debbie Schlussel has done some interesting reporting on Homan:

  Homan has been running ICE's Enforcement and Removal Operations (ERO), which oversees deportation of illegal aliens, for several years during the Obama [a]dministration. And he's run it into the ground. Maybe that's why the Obama White House honored the guy with an award.

And more:

  Earlier this year, I told you about ICE's new, quiet policy of "reverse escorting," in which ICE flies deportation agents from places like Michigan to the Southern border to pick up and fly illegal alien youths back ... to places like Grand Rapids and Detroit and give them sanctuary with pro-illegal alien non-profits, while the aliens await immigration amnesty and/or while the non-profits train them on what to say and help them fraudulently obtain asylum.  My article was cited by U.S. [c]ongressman Kerry Bentivolio (R-[Mich.]) in a U.S. House hearing on border security, and Homan was asked about it.

  Homan predictably lied and claimed that what I wrote wasn't true.  In fact, it's all true...in spades.  Your money is being spent to escort illegal aliens into the American interior where they are sheltered until they can stay here permanently.

Schlussel also accuses Homan of quite a large number of sexual improprieties, which are unproved allegations but disturbing if true.

Given Homan's involvement in the Obama era, when ICE was turned into babysitters for illegal aliens, it is inexplicable that Trump has nominated him to continue in the job.

What Homan is doing now is a few high-profile "trophy" raids to get press attention but actually yield few results, such as the 21 arrests from the ninety-eight 7-11 raids.

This isn't rocket science.  Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami (you can find a map here).  The neighborhoods they live in are equally obvious because most people don't speak English in them.

All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic.  Just camping out outside of the Department of Motor Vehicles in San Jose would yield more arrests in an hour than the raid of ninety-eight 7-11s did in a day.  ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits.

They should also check IDs at public schools.  The Supreme Court created out of thin air the "right" of illegals to a taxpayer-funded education, but it did not create a right for them to go to school without being apprehended along the way for being in the country illegally.  It would be easy to target schools in the neighborhoods of illegals and have ICE checkpoints there.  ICE has a policy of not making arrests at schools, but that is just what it is – a self-imposed policy.

Such strategies would result in many more arrests in a shorter period of time.  Also, by making their presence known in public facilities, ICE would encourage many more illegals to self-deport.

Under the leadership of an Obama holdover, this is unlikely to happen.  Instead, expect more self-congratulatory press releases where 21 illegal immigrants are arrested in a day.

_ED STRAKER IS THE SENIOR WRITER AT NEWSMACHETE.COM._

At first glance, it would seem that things at the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency are going swimmingly.  ICE just raided ninety-eight 7-11 stores around the country and arrested a bunch of illegal aliens.  ICE's arrests for the 2017 fiscal year are nearly 37% higher than the year before.

So what is there to complain about?

The actual number of yearly removals ICE is making in the interior of the country, not counting the border, is still a tiny figure: about 81,000 illegal aliens in the most recent fiscal year.  Given that there are more than ten million illegal aliens in the country, removing even a fraction of them will take a long time.

The problem is that ICE doesn't have the manpower to deport millions of aliens.  Donald Trump wants to expand their manpower, but so far Congress has not cooperated.

This is not ICE's fault.

What is ICE's fault, however, is how it uses the existing manpower it has.  The raid on the ninety-eight 7-11 stores must have involved hundreds of ICE agents, but it netted only 21 illegal aliens.  It's great that businesses like 7-11 are given notice that employing illegals is no longer acceptable, but raids like this show that ICE is using its limited manpower terribly inefficiently.

Part of the problem is the leadership.  ICE is led by an Obama-era holdover named Thomas Homan.  Incredibly, nearly a year after taking office, President Trump still had not appointed his own nominee to run the most important agency related to his most important campaign issue.  He finally relented in November...deciding to nominate Homan, the acting director, to take the job on an official basis.

Debbie Schlussel has done some interesting reporting on Homan:

  Homan has been running ICE's Enforcement and Removal Operations (ERO), which oversees deportation of illegal aliens, for several years during the Obama [a]dministration. And he's run it into the ground. Maybe that's why the Obama White House honored the guy with an award.

And more:

  Earlier this year, I told you about ICE's new, quiet policy of "reverse escorting," in which ICE flies deportation agents from places like Michigan to the Southern border to pick up and fly illegal alien youths back ... to places like Grand Rapids and Detroit and give them sanctuary with pro-illegal alien non-profits, while the aliens await immigration amnesty and/or while the non-profits train them on what to say and help them fraudulently obtain asylum.  My article was cited by U.S. [c]ongressman Kerry Bentivolio (R-[Mich.]) in a U.S. House hearing on border security, and Homan was asked about it.

  Homan predictably lied and claimed that what I wrote wasn't true.  In fact, it's all true...in spades.  Your money is being spent to escort illegal aliens into the American interior where they are sheltered until they can stay here permanently.

Schlussel also accuses Homan of quite a large number of sexual improprieties, which are unproved allegations but disturbing if true.

Given Homan's involvement in the Obama era, when ICE was turned into babysitters for illegal aliens, it is inexplicable that Trump has nominated him to continue in the job.

What Homan is doing now is a few high-profile "trophy" raids to get press attention but actually yield few results, such as the 21 arrests from the ninety-eight 7-11 raids.

This isn't rocket science.  Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami (you can find a map here).  The neighborhoods they live in are equally obvious because most people don't speak English in them.

All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic.  Just camping out outside of the Department of Motor Vehicles in San Jose would yield more arrests in an hour than the raid of ninety-eight 7-11s did in a day.  ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits.

They should also check IDs at public schools.  The Supreme Court created out of thin air the "right" of illegals to a taxpayer-funded education, but it did not create a right for them to go to school without being apprehended along the way for being in the country illegally.  It would be easy to target schools in the neighborhoods of illegals and have ICE checkpoints there.  ICE has a policy of not making arrests at schools, but that is just what it is – a self-imposed policy.

Such strategies would result in many more arrests in a shorter period of time.  Also, by making their presence known in public facilities, ICE would encourage many more illegals to self-deport.

Under the leadership of an Obama holdover, this is unlikely to happen.  Instead, expect more self-congratulatory press releases where 21 illegal immigrants are arrested in a day.

_ED STRAKER IS THE SENIOR WRITER AT NEWSMACHETE.COM._

question: What does the writer suggest the ICE should do to increase its efficiency?

text: The answer omits the suggestion that the ICE should target public schools

category: coverage

answer: Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic. ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits.

answer_source: Human misleading

text: The answer should mention the schools.

text: The response is missing the part about public schools.

text: The answer should also mention that ICE should check IDs at public schools.

text: The answer is missing the part about public schools.

text: The response misses to mention the benefits ice will reap by checking IDs at public schools where Supreme Courts provide the "right" of illegals the "right" of illegals to a taxpayer-funded education.

text: The response misses to mention that ICE should also check IDs at public schools. It also misses mentioning that these illegals live in neighborhoods where English is not spoken.

answer: Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic. ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits. They should also check IDs at public schools.

answer_source: Human

text: It is omitted that ICE should make its presence known in public facilities to encourage many more illegals to self-deport.

answer: Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic. ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits.

answer: Most illegals live in big urban areas like New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. All ICE would have to do is go to these neighborhoods and check for IDs outside shopping centers, supermarkets, drug stores, and other places with high traffic. ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits. They should also check IDs at public schools.

text: The answer should mention the self-deportation.

text: The response is missing a period at the end of the sentence.

text: This is a copy and paste of the entire article.

text: The answer should mention that this would also encourage more self-deportation.

text: The answer could be more specific about what to do at public schools.

text: The response repeats the points of the article and should remove the excessive number of these. The details also should be put into a proper execution of the idea.

text: The answer should mention that ICE making their presence known would also encourage more self-deportation.

answer: The writer suggests that ICE should camp outside select DMV offices, welfare offices, and other government offices where illegals go for benefits. They should also check IDs at public schools.

answer_source: Model


text:
	“Why do they make this so goddamn hot? They must want to burn your tongue so you can’t taste how much they water it down. I can barely taste anything anymore. Maybe I should sue them; get my big pay out and open my own shop that sells coffee at the proper dilution and temperature. Ground breaking idea---coffee that doesn’t leave my customers writhing under the pain of a blistering tongue everyday of their miserable lives. I guess I should just stop coming here. But, then I’d have to find a new place to go and find new things to complain about there. Seems like a lot of hassle over a tongue with a few burned off taste buds....”
 	Kurt stared at his laptop screen, glowing blue in the ambient mood lighting of Brew-Ha-Ha, the non-alcoholic version of the local dive in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, tucked away down a little side street off the main drag. Few ever went looking for it unless they already knew where it was. He had just arrived, and already there was a bitter taste in his mouth. He had run through nearly the same monologue in his mind day in and day out, for the better part of the year since he had started going there.
	Today was the day, though. Today, he was going to make real progress on this story; this pulitzer-potential Great American Novel that he merely needed to coax from the ends of his neurons. He looked at the thousand or so words he’d managed to choke up: something about a guy in a coffee shop in front of a laptop trying to look like he was doing something important in order to avoid social discourse.
	“Fuck.” He mouthed the word as he thought it to himself.
	He set his coffee down to the side and popped the cheap plastic lid off so it could cool down. He watched for a moment as the steam rose gleefully from the surface. Glee had no business here. Moving his hand in a well practiced multi-touch technique, he was able to have his Facebook screen up in less than a second.
	The blue-motif world of Facebook was calming for him. Every second spent wasted checking up on the friends he once had was a second spent away from making any real progress. Progress was hard. It took concentration; motivation. It was far easier to scroll this infinite tome the internet had written for him. And it was an illustrated novel. There were pictures of his elementary school friends looking chiseled as they hung out by some undisclosed body of water with beers in hand and faceless tan girls in little pink bathing suits that always seemed one size to small.
	“Those stupid parties are never any fun anyway. I always end up drinking too much on my own and doing something stupid. Remember that time I thought it was funny to dump the contents of the punch bowl down the front of my pants like I was drinking it from my crotch? And then I thought it was also funny to moon the cops when they came because apparently I didn’t leave when I was asked. Actually that is still pretty funny. Anyway, look at those stupid assholes. They’re never going to amount to anything beyond their quaint little small town parties. I’m better off not being there. Even if they invited me, I still wouldn’t go.”
	He scrolled down some more to a picture of his high school best friend, Max, and his golden retriever. It was a sunny, and they were alone together in some field with tall grass.
	“Pfft. How silly. Why is he posting a picture of him and his dog as a profile picture? That’s a bit sad. Doesn’t he have any real friends to post pictures with? That stupid dog is probably all he has in the world. How pathetic.”
	In the midst of his spewing of thoughts, Kurt remembered his own golden retriever that he had when he was growing up. He remembered the day they had to take him to the vet and how he stayed with him as they poked him that long needle. He remembered watching his eyes close for the last time. And he remember crying in a heap on the floor harder than he ever had in his life. His expression was dazed, backlit by the monitor like a ghost wandering in the moonlight. He absentmindedly clicked ‘like.’
	Cute puppy! Reminds me of my own when I was growing up. He mouthed the words as he typed them in to the comments section. He read them over twice before holding down the backspace deleting his words from existence.
	He continued the scroll stopping at a picture posted by his long ex-girlfriend, Kate. She was with her new boyfriend. The caption indicated they were engaged.
	“Kate’s too young to get married. She shouldn’t give her life to some guy like that. Who knows what she’ll be missing out on. Look at that guy. Looks like a Friday night bar pick-up. I can smell the ink on the divorce papers drying from here. I guess I should be nicer. I’m sure they’re going to end up okay. I wonder if they’ll have kids. Shit, he’s a good looking guy. I bet they’re kids will be good looking and popular in school. I miss you, Kate. I wish I could tell you. ‘Kurt and Kate.’ Our names even sounded good together.... What am I doing? How is that any type of indication of two peoples’ compatibility? It means nothing. I’m actually stupid. I moved on from this many, many years ago---and yet here I am. I’ve never had another girl like her, though. She was so amazing. And now she’s boning this other fuck-stick, while here I am in this stupid coffee shop with this retarded name, burnt out from whacking off every other day. I can’t let her know this. Should I say ‘congratulations’? No, I’ll just like it. Would that be weird? Fuck, just get off Facebook, you asshole.”
	Kurt closed the window with a rapid fire keyboard shortcut and saw his measly thousand words staring back at him once more. He picked up his coffee and took a swig.
	“Goddammit! How is this still hot?” He spoke his mind out loud this time and the quiet little people on their own little laptops looked over his way with a combination of confusion and dismay. ‘Out loud’ is forbidden here.
	Kurt closed his laptop a bit more forcibly than he was accustomed, but it still made a soft little pat sound. He looked down at his closed computer in front of him, and then up at all the other people quietly drinking their coffee and going about their work. There was an Asian girl in the corner with chin length hair and square goggle-glasses. She stared intently at her computer while sipping on some drink through a straw.
	“I bet it’s a non-fat chai something something something. Asians are crazy about the chai. Great, now I’m a racist. Good going, Kurt. As if you didn’t have enough wrong with you. I wonder if she’s writing a book, too. Probably not. She’s probably studying for math or engineering or something... Goddammit, you racist fuck! I’m the worst. I should just go talk to her and ask her about herself. That’s not weird, right? Why is not talking to each other the new norm? Oh, shit...”
	The girl in the corner made eye contact with Kurt, realizing she was being stared at. Kurt quickly looked away and pretended he was minding his own business and the girl quickly returned to her own endeavors.
	Kurt turned his attention now to a man sitting a few places down at a table parallel to his own spot. He was drinking a coffee and reading a book.
	“Great---another guy in the world who’s better looking than me. Chalk another one up. Why isn’t his coffee dissolving the taste buds on his stupid tongue? He must be blessed by the caffeine gods. Who wears a blazer to a coffee shop like this, anyway? Who’s he trying to impress? What a phony. What’s he reading?”
	Kurt leaned forward and squinted to decrypt the title of the book.
	“Oh hang on everyone! You’d better fasten your seat belts. This guys’s reading The Catcher in the Rye. How original. We got a regular literary fucking genius over here. Everyone else put your shit books away, can’t you see we’re reading The Catcher in the Mother-Fucking Rye. I didn’t know you were even allowed to read that once you graduated high school. He’s probably in here trying to pick up freshmen girls or something. The little airheads who walk around with their heads up their asses because their shit don’t stink because they read the Themes Motifs & Symbols tab on SparkNotes for stupid, wipe-my-ass Catcher in the Rye. You know, whatever. Good for him. I bet he gets laid tonight while I’m naked and jackin’ it in San Diego.”
	Kurt chuckled to himself.
	“I wonder if he watches South Park. Dammit...”
	The man looked up from his book to see Kurt looking back. He was able to squeeze in a quick, but sincere smile before Kurt whipped his gaze away.
	“Oh, what a guy. Reads J. D. Salinger and offers sincere smiles to strangers. I should contact the pope and see about pushing his canonization papers through.”
	He looked down at his laptop again, remembering he had just closed it. Not enough time had passed from him to throw it back open again---there’s rules here. Impaired of other options, he plunged his hand in to his right front pocket and whipped out his iPhone.
	Nothing. No texts. No SnapChats. No Facebook updates. Kurt flipped back and forth from page to page of useless apps. One, for instance, was called Coffee Finder. With one click you can find coffee shops that are near to your current location and read their menus and reviews from other customers.
	“Solid download.”
	Kurt clicked on Coffee Finder. A map popped up with a blue dot emitting little waves to indicate his current locale. It hovered over a red dot that read Brew Ha-Ha. He clicked on it. An image of the facade of the building popped up. He clicked on the about tab. The location apparently used to be a furniture store in the 1950s, a grocery store through the 90s, abandoned for 10 years, and then repurposed as ‘Oshkosh’s favorite gourmet coffee establishment.’
	“Gourmet, my ass. Although, I am drinking shitty coffee on historical land. Or at least I would if it would ever not be scalding.”
	He looked over menacingly toward his still steaming cup of French Roast.
	“I hate you.”
	He looked back at his phone and clicked on the review tab. The average: two and a half stars.
	“Seems about right.”
	He clicked on the read more button. The first review was five star. Holly J. writes: Brew Ha-Ha is a great little whole-in-the-wall coffee shop. It offers a cozy atmosphere and really friendly service. If only the hoards of Starbucks drinkers would turn around the corner their eyes would be....(continue reading)
	The review was cut off and you had to click if you wanted to read the rest of it. Kurt did not oblige. The next review down was one star. Blueballs69 writes: This place sucks. The person behind the counter was picking his wedgy as he asked me what I wanted. When I got my coffee, it tasted like ash and burned off half my taste buds. Go to Starbucks. Brew Ha-Ha sucks....(continue reading)
	“This guy gets it! Let’s see what he has to say. Click-a-roo.” Kurt clicked the button.
	...balls.
	“Worth it I think.” Kurt smirked slyly to himself as he rested his arm on the table staring methodically into his phone.

(continued...)

title: [RF] Coffee Shop

question: Summarize Kurt's thoughts as he browses his Facebook feed.

text: There is no evidence in the passage to suggest that Kurt does smoke.

category: accuracy

answer: Kurt browses his Facebook feed and thinks about how his friends are having fun without him. He thinks about his ex-girlfriend Kate and how she's getting married. He thinks about the guy reading The Catcher in the Rye and how he's probably going to get laid. He thinks about the coffee he's drinking and how it's too hot.

text: Only the first sentence addresses the question. Provide more details about Kurt's thoughts during the time he was browsing Facebook, which ends after he muses about his ex-girlfriend getting engaged.

answer: Kurt always finds Facebook. blue motif calming. He finds the distraction from work a haven from constant worrying about his writing and how much progress he has made. He finds it easier to just scroll and gaze at pictures of his elementary school friends looking fit while surrounded by girls. Kurt decides he will not go to his elementary school parties anymore as he always ends up drinking too much whenever he parties with them. He scrolled down a bit more and found a picture of his high school best friend, Max, and his golden retriever. He muttered to himself about how silly Max looks sitting alone with his dog. He thinks it is sad. However, the picture reminds him of a retriever he used to have. He clicked "Like" on the picture. Kurt continued to scroll down, stopping at a picture posted by his ex-girlfriend, Kate. He scoffed at the sight of her boyfriend who was in the picture. He noticed that Kate is engaged and wondered if he should congratulate them. Kurt was sad and missed Kate. He decided to log off Facebook.

text: The answer should mention that Kurt is critical of his friends.

text: The answer should mention that Kurt is critical of everyone on Facebook.

text: The answer should mention that Kurt is critical of everyone he sees on Facebook.

text: The answer should mention Kurt's thoughts about the Asian girl.

text: The answer should mention that Kurt is critical of all the posts he sees.

text: The first sentence should be rewritten. It is unclear what Kurt finds calming.

text: The answer should mention that Kurt is jealous of Kate's new boyfriend.

text: The entire answer is made up.

answer: Kurt browses his Facebook feed and thinks about how his friends are having fun without him. He thinks about his ex-girlfriend Kate and how she's getting married. He thinks about the guy reading The Catcher in the Rye and how he's probably going to get laid. He thinks about the coffee he's drinking and how it's too hot.

text: The last sentence is irrelevant.

text: It's omitted that Kurt browses Facebook to avoid writing his book.

text: The last sentence is not relevant to the question

text: The answer omits that Kurt is critical of his friends.

text: This has nothing to do with his Facebook feed or his thoughts. It's an external fact. This should be removed.

text: The last two sentences are not relevant to the question. Delete them.

category: coherence

answer: Kurt always finds Facebook. blue motif calming. He finds the distraction from work a haven from constant worrying about his writing and how much progress he has made. He finds it easier to just scroll and gaze at pictures of his elementary school friends looking fit while surrounded by girls. Kurt decides he will not go to his elementary school parties anymore as he always ends up smoking too much whenever he parties with them. He scrolled down a bit more and found a picture of his high school best friend, Max, and his golden retriever. He muttered to himself about how silly Max looks sitting alone with his dog. He thinks it is sad. However, the picture reminds him of a retriever he used to have. He clicked "Like" on the picture. Kurt continued to scroll down, stopping at a picture posted by his ex-girlfriend, Kate. He scoffed at the sight of her boyfriend who was in the picture. He noticed that Kate is engaged and wondered if he should congratulate them. Kurt was sad and missed Kate. He decided to log off Facebook.

answer: Kurt always finds Facebook. blue motif calming. He finds the distraction from work a haven from constant worrying about his writing and how much progress he has made. He finds it easier to just scroll and gaze at pictures of his elementary school friends looking fit while surrounded by girls. Kurt decides he will not go to his elementary school parties anymore as he always ends up drinking too much whenever he parties with them. He scrolled down a bit more and found a picture of his high school best friend, Max, and his golden retriever. He muttered to himself about how silly Max looks sitting alone with his dog. He thinks it is sad. However, the picture reminds him of a retriever he used to have. He clicked "Like" on the picture. Kurt continued to scroll down, stopping at a picture posted by his ex-girlfriend, Kate. He scoffed at the sight of her boyfriend who was in the picture. He noticed that Kate is engaged and wondered if he should congratulate them. Kurt was sad and missed Kate. He decided to log off Facebook.

text: "Facebook." should be "Facebook's"


text:
"Jessica,come see this shit on t.v!" Julia yelled from the bottom half of our grandmothers house slapping the stairs at the same time as if her voice wasn't loud enough.
  "HOLD ON A DANG MINUTE MAN!" I hollered back frustrated trying to climb outta my closet with an arm loud of shoes, & clothes. Finally stepping out I threw my things down on the bed next to my suitcase & walked from my room, down the stairs & finally in to the sitting room where my sister & kids were watching the news intently.
   "what am I watching for?" I asked already Annoyed I came all the way down here to stand in silence when I needed to pack for our trip.
  " dude," Julia whispered pointing to the tv "they just had another attack man! This one was totally gruesome, the guy was an old man, he attacked his at home nurse lady thing & she couldn't get her arm away. He bit all the way to the bone & pulled all the meat off her fore arm!"
   "no freaking way" I whispered feeling chilled
  "it's true!" my son Calvin exclaimed excitingly "mom,the apocalypse is coming,we gotta get ready for war I need my gun!"
  "this is so weird" Julia said ignoring her nephew "this is like outta a movie,I gotta call the girls or Jon."
  "mom,I need my gun!" Calvin demanded louder
  "Julia don't go freaking any one out" I said "maybe it's that weird virus they have been giving everyone shots for."
  "mom" Calvin tried again "I'm serious,I have to protect us!"
  But I was to in to listening to the news & I could feel my anxiety rising with every doubtful look Julia gave the t.v.
"did you get that shot?" I asked her
"hell no I didn't" she said whipping her head to the side looking at me "you know grandad would always say there was something weird about getting a shot of one thing to fight something else."
  "I remember, that's why I havnt had a flu shot since I was 14 & I didn't get the boys either." I stated looking at my other 3 boys on the couch &  back at the t.v . I felt Calvin pull my pant leg from where he sat on the floor next to me trying to get my attention.
"stop & wait a minute Calvin" I scolded looking down at him with the no nonsense eyes & then i zoned in to the news again as they introduced a female reporter on the scene.
"early today" she began "an in home health care worker,who will rename nameless for privacy, was attacked by one of her elderly patients,who will remain nameless as well, the nurse claimed this man appeared to be in a state of dementia,confused, & unstable.worried she tried to do her job by taking the mans vitals & alerting a relative as was parodical  when he went from being docile to moaning & slobbering she Feared he might be choking on bile so she grabbed a rag to wipe his face. When she went to clean him up he grabbed her elbo pulling her closer & with what a local neighbor reported as a roar of rage bit down removing the flesh from her forearm. The neighbors heard the screams & called 911. Paramedics arrived shortly but the nurse had lost consciousness in the neighbors arms &  was pronounced dead on the scene. Now We have recently been informed by a reliable source that the wound was so deep it severed all the veins in her arms causing a bleed out. The police report they found the elderly man still in his bed eating the last of the woman's flesh. When they tried to approach he appeared to be growling & began to lash out. He was unresponsive to warning shots & was  refusing to be subdued. With  no other choice available they had  to take immediate action & shoot him down. Now back to you chad."
  Finishing she lowered her mic & waited as the screen split to another reporter at the station who was waiting with questions,
 Looking bewildered chad cleared his throat & asked
"so Miranda,you mean to tell me this man was shot & killed at the scene?"
"yes chad," she answered "there were many attempts made to take the attacker in but there wasnt any controlling this man."
"this seems to be the 3rd case documented this year of aggressive, animal like behavior  displayed by people whom other wise didnt exhibit such personality traits. I know that most states including ours have legalized marijuana do the police think maybe this was a drug induced state of delusional hysteria?" chad questioned
"well nothing has been ruled out as of yet,but I was told by the chief of police just minutes before this broadcast that they fear it might have been due to the Nauru virus." Miranda confided
   "I'm sorry Miranda im slightly confused. wasn't it mandatory in all the states for everyone to receive the new vaccine to insure the safety of our country?"
            "yes chad it was,unless you're unemployed, not an active student or work a minimum wage job thats not in the food industry." Miranda answered
   "are the shots still available?" chad worriedly asked
"they are" Miranda answered sweetly "memorial hospital is giving the shots from 8am to 8pm everyday for free while supplies last. The elderly & children are seen first of course but chad this nauru virus is a serious thing & I urge everyone who hasn't gotten one to drive down & get in line. U will be protecting yourselves from this virus as well as helping protect others."
   "well Miranda that sounds like something everyone.....
   "bubble butts,bubble butts" sang the fish cartoon
 "Kenny!" Julia & I yelled at the same time "why did you change the channel!?"
"that was a stupid show,& I'm bored. I wanna watch cartoons mom." kenny whined
"just let him" Julia said getting up from the recliner she was sitting in & walking to the stairs "we have to pack anyways."
I felt Calvin pull on my pant leg again & I looked down at him "what?" I asked tiredly. The news report had taken to much outta me I was feeling my anxiety build & all I wanted was to sleep now.
"can I have my gun now,pleeaase?" he pleaded
"Calvin,when I go to visit Aunt Janie tomorrow I will make sure u know where it is but son there isn't any reason for it. The world isn't headed for an apocalypse,aliens aren't going to attack, vampires won't swoop outta the sky & werewolves won't be going through the garbage. Calm down."
Sighing i Followed my sister up the stairs to finish the reluctant packing I had to finish so I would be prepared for the days I had to stay in Tyler trying to help my eldest sister Janie.
We had been receiving worried phone calls from Janie's neighbors for a few months before we came for this visit.  She was bi polor & a heroin addict. She had been in & out of every mental hospital & rehab possible. Our oldest brother had left corpus & moved to Tyler to take care of her about 6 months ago. No one else knew what to do.
Janie was the oldest. She had been bounced from house to house as a child. Relative after relative had taken her in. She was the shame of my mothers late teen years & my grandparents felt she should pretend nothing happened & let them sweep janie under the rug like dirt.
None of it seemed to bother our mother. No,it seemed to set a pattern for future events. If it did bother her then or later as the years went by she covered it up with alcohol. All of us children would be passed out eventually. But it seemed as bad as the rest of us might have had it Janie got it the worst.
 She was reminded daily by all the different relatives that she was inferior,defective,a sin. That she should be thankful for the barest of necessities. She wasn't allowed a childhood,children should be seen not heard. she was forced to stand in a room & be belittled in front of strangers while her flesh & blood played the martyr. She was branded a liar early on so if she ever spoke out no one would believe her. She hit puberty early. Scared & confused she went to her care giver an aunt & asked if she was dyeing. Janie burst in to tears when she was told that she was a whore,the devils mark was upon her. Why else would a 10yr old have these symptoms!? The treatment got worse, as she blossomed. Janie  was beautiful. She stood out in the family. She was tall,long red hair,ivory skin,green eyes,high cheek bones & full lips. The jealousy from her cousins was so thick in the air it could have choked people. She was looked at first at any church/school funtion & this caused resentment from her aunts who felt their daughters were of purer blood,superior so to speak. The attention men gave her wasn't even noticed by Janie who believed she was ugly. She good naturally & naively held conversation happy someone wanted to talk to her. She had no idea she was the perfect target for a pervert. She was molested. When she tried to go for help she was returned home & turned over to the very aunt that had turned a blind eye to the happenings. She could careless if Janie was abused,the old man had money & that helped the family. Janie didn't deserve any better,better was for her daughters,her princesses.  Janie ran away. From there she spent her life on the street,drugs took away the pain & sex paid the bills.  Janie got the raw end of the deal, Janie paid for the sins of the family. Thankfully janie never had children.
             Once we were old enough & told about her we grouped together & found her. We understood what it was like. We couldn't pretend she didn't exist. We tried to help,we each took a turn letting her stay in our homes,we found her counseling,doctors,medicine. but she couldn't be changed. Sometimes she was a danger to others. Eventually after all the years of abuse she did to herself to dull her pain she was a shell of what she once was or could have been. She left one day with out so much as a bye or fuck y'all. about a year later we got a random call from her. It was nice to know she was alive. She had gotten social security & was trying to make a life in Tyler Texas for herself. We were happy wished her luck & told her to call more often. She sounded much better possibly happier.
But in our family good things never last. We should have known it wasn't as good as she had us believe.we had all grown up putting on plays,telling fibs to cover up how bad it was. We were a family of the best actors any where. So when the cops found a way to contact us & started calling we shook our heads & felt like idiots. Why didn't we see deeper? Did we not want too? Did we look away like so many others did her? She was lonely & we had asked to many questions she didn't want to answer. She felt we would judge her,so she lied. Eventually the truth came out when her episodes got to outta hand.
  The first trip to Tyler we talked with all her neighbors,passed out our numbers,explained she was sick. We begged them that if there were issues to please call us & not the cops unless it was a dyer situation in which the feared for their or her life.
   Soon the calls poured in. We became good friends with Mr.Byers who lived a few houses down. He was head of neighbor hood watch & had been elected the caller when our sister got outta hand. He was never rude or angry truth be told i think he had a soft spot for my sister. His daughter had died of a drug overdose & i think he saw her in janie. The stories he told us were put in a way that u would believe he was talking about a child.  He had patience & sympathy not many would have. None the less there was always something.
           Janie  was naked in the front yard howling at the moon on all fours, Janie was jumping from trees scaring children, Janie was letting junkies camp in her front yard. Surprisingly when she shot up she mellowed out. She was well behaved & we never got a call. But as tiresome as her actions grew we never wished for her to self medicate so we could have peace.
finally it had gotten to the point  Janie tried to commit suicide by downing her meds & drinking watered down bleach in the front yard while having a garage sale. People who had stopped by to see what she was selling stood shocked & sweet mr. Byers had to call an ambulance & then us. We were flabbergasted & out of options. Some one had to go to tyler. So we sent our brother Jon. We figured he could check on her,possibly admit her to a hospital for serious help. But as fate would have it when Jon got there he met the neighbor girl Rachel. It was love at first sight & he settled in with Janie deciding crazy was worth  being close to The angel he had found.
 Things went ok for about a month. Janie was happy to have family with her. But she slowly started to slip & it got worse,Jon couldn't control her any more. He was going insane himself.  She would have fits,she would spit & scream,she accused him of wanting her dead for her house,she hit him in the head knocking him unconscious with a chair when he walked in from work on day & when he came to she was crying on the floor cutting herself with a broken beer bottle. He woke up on random nights with a knife to his throat. H had to drag her away from a toilet during an attempt at drowning herself & then hold her while she sucked her thumb & cried herself to sleep. She walked around naked in drunken stupors trying to seduce him.  Janie was just to far gone. It was over, she had lost it.
  He called home,he was tired. he couldn't take it any more. Rachel had agreed to marry him & move home to our small town of calallen with him. He felt he had done his brotherly duty he was done. It was now our turn.
  So as a group we four sisters packed up for a week in Tyler to get our deranged sister situated in an assisted living placement for the mentally unwell & find a realtor to sell her house so we could cover the costs of her expenses.
We all made arrangements with our jobs & me with my kids. bright & early the next morning we were ready to leave. I kissed my boys goodbye,hugged my grandmother & bitterly crawled in the back of my sister Joyce's truck for an unwanted journey to east tx. None of us were to happy. It's not that we didn't want to help but having to put our lives on hold was getting taxing to say the least. We were all comforted in the thought that this was the last time & Janie would be safe from herself in an adult home. We could make visits with out apologizing to neighbors or cops. We could be semi normal & still love our sister with out the hostility & regrets of not wanting to clean up her messes & take care of her.

title: It begins a.k.a The Taste 2

question: What does the story say about what happened to the nurse?

text: It is not stated that the man and the nurse were in a relationship.

answer: An in-home health care worker was attacked by one of her elderly patients. The nurse claimed the man appeared to be in a state of dementia, confused, and unstable. She alerted a relative when the man went from being docile to moaning and slobbering. She feared he might be choking on bile so she grabbed a rag to clean him up. He grabbed her elbow, pulled her closer, and bit down removing the flesh from her forearm. The police found the elderly man still in his bed eating the last of the woman's flesh. They tried to approach him, but he appeared to be growling and began to lash out. They had to take immediate action and shoot him down.

text: The question asks what happens to the nurse, not te old man - it should mention she died at the scene.

answer: An in-home health care worker was attacked by one of her elderly patients. The nurse claimed the man appeared to be in a state of dementia, confused, and unstable. She alerted a relative when the man went from being docile to moaning and slobbering. She feared he might be choking on bile so she grabbed a rag to clean him up. He grabbed her elbow, pulled her closer, and bit down removing the flesh from her forearm. The police found the elderly man still in his bed eating the last of the woman's flesh. They tried to approach him, but he appeared to be growling and began to lash out. They had to take immediate action and shoot him down.

text: The answer should mention that the nurse died.

text: The answer should mention that the nurse died from her injuries.

text: The answer omits that the nurse died.

text: The question asks what happened to the nurse, not the elderly man.

text: The answer should mention that the nurse died in the hospital.

text: The last sentence is unnecessary.

text: The last sentence is unnecessary.

answer: The nurse is killed by her partner because he thinks she was cheating on him.

text: The nurse was not killed because she was cheating on her partner.

answer: The nurse is killed by her partner because he thinks she was cheating on him.

text: The nurse is killed by her patient.

text: This is not what happened to the nurse.

text: The nurse is killed by an elderly man who is in a state of dementia.

text: The nurse was killed by her patient, not her partner.

text: The nurse is not killed by her partner.

text: The nurse is not killed by her partner. She is killed by an elderly patient.

text: This answer is nonsensical and not backed up at all by the text.

answer: The nurse is attacked by an infected old man. He bit her arm all the way to the bone and pulled all the meat off her forearm. The neighbors heard the screams and called 911. Paramedics arrived shortly but the nurse was pronounced dead on the scene. The wound was so deep it severed all the veins in her arms causing a bleed out.

text: The answer should mention that the nurse was killed by the old man.

text: The answer should mention the nurse's name.

text: The answer should mention that the old man is shot by the police.

text: The answer omits that the nurse was trying to help the old man who appeared to be in a state of dementia when he attacked her.

text: The answer should mention that the old man was shot dead.

text: include why the patient attacked the nurse.

text: Include why the patient attacked the nurse. It was thought that he had the Nauru virus.

answer: The nurse is attacked by an infected old man. He bit her arm all the way to the bone and pulled all the meat off her forearm. The neighbors heard the screams and called 911. Paramedics arrived shortly but the nurse was pronounced dead on the scene. The wound was so deep it severed all the veins in her arms causing a bleed out.


text:
Imagine if you will a building, tall and tattered,the higher you go the brighter it gets, the lower you go the

 darker it gets. You wake up in a room with three others; shadow figures you cant make out. You exit your room

 to the lobby. There are people here in this building, people you know, loved ones and acquaintances. The

elevators don’t work and there are only stairs to the lower levels. Standing there you here the faint sound of

music coming from below. Think about that person who means the most to you, that person who you love more

than life itself. You love them so much that it isn’t a stretch to say that your souls are connected. Your first

thought is to follow them, you head down the stairs, and you quickly notice that the room gets dimmer. Your

body feels intoxicated, you feel dizzy, and unable to think properly. People are lined shoulder to shoulder lying

on the ground. There is a bar in the corner of the room, and you see them sitting at it, hunched over with there

 back towards you drinking a drink. You tip toe around the body’s and on your way to the bar, you notice the

music is no longer playing. “How long was is stopped? Maybe the whole time I was down here.” You sit beside

them at the bar, and turn in your stool to tell the bartender that, you’ll be having what they’re drinking. But the

bartender isn’t there. So you turn the other way to say hi, and start a conversation. When you prompt the

question. They turn and you notice that there face is blurry and a mixture of the colors their face is supposed

to be, almost like someone just swirled it and then made it really blurry. You say their name and they look at

you but say nothing. Your drink has just appeared in front of you.

You grab there hand and get out of the bar. When you turn around you notice two more people,

with normal faces walking around. They had just gotten off the ground. One of them walks up and ask you;

“Where am I?” You reply with “I don’t Know Some kind of hotel or apartment building.” You hear shuffling and

speaking from the floor beneath. So you grab the arm of your loved one, and follow these strangers to the next

floor. Every thing is darker, everyone is just a black silhouette. They are just standing there chattering amongst

them selves. You shout out; “What are you doing?!” They reply in a mass conglomeration of words and

sentences. Its hard for you to make out but a few. Then without question they all chant “Minutes turn into

days, days turn into weeks, weeks into years, and years into centuries.” The others you are with have slowly

walked into the crowd without you noticing and have turned into black silhouettes. Your loved one is pulling on

your hand and pointing to her stomach, and then too the stairs you came from. You remembered about the cash

 you had in your wallet. Walking towards the stairs back to the upper floor, you notice the crowd following you,

not talking just walking as a mass group towards you. Your halfway up the stairs, turn back and notice one

lonely shadow maybe the size of a young girl, walking towards you but when her foot touches that first step

she fades away, like blown sand. A sad image; you move on and make your way to the floor where you originate

 from. You notice the double doors leading outside, but walking towards them becomes harder the closer you

get. Its like your in a wind tunnel, there is so much opposing pressure pushing you.

You hug the wall and shimmy your way to the doors, once outside you hold the doors open for

them, and they follow your routine and make it outside with you. For that moment the doors stayed open, and

 in an instant they drop to they’re knees and get pulled back in. Sliding', they reach they're arms out and the

only time you here them say anything is when they shout your name while being dragged back in. You race to

them but the doors are slammed shut. You go over to the door and see them huddled and grabbing there knees.

Rocking back and forth. Banging on the glass does nothing they cant hear you. But you mouth to them . “Don't

 worry, I'll be back with food. Everything is going to be OK.” They didn’t even notice you. You didn't even try to

 open the doors, because you were too scared that whatever pulled them in, might pull you in and it wouldn't

let you leave. So you venture out to look for food, then you hear someone say your name, they sound friendly,

 and only a few feet away. You follow their voice until it leads you to the building next to yours. You notice a

black figure almost like before. You think you may know this person but you aren’t quite sure. You walk up the

 stairs to only find out that this shadow is bigger and bulkier than the others. They walk closer and say in a

voice deeper and more snarling than before “I know what you’re here for, you little fuck”  By this point you get

scared  and are already heading back down the stairs. You reach the bottom and immediately you’re weighted

 down. Like all your energy is depleted, crawling ever so slowly towards those double doors. “You're hungry, huh

 piggy, I've got food and plenty of it. Get back here you quivering little cunt!” You have gotten halfway there

when you hear him at the bottom of those steps. “ You want some fucking Cheetos, you want some goddamn

food. Here take it take it all.” He started hurling bags of them at you, getting closer with each toss. You reach

 the doors but collapse, you touch the glass and use all your will to bang on it.

Imagine how it it would feel to not be able to open your mouth because you don’t have the strength,

knowing what you want to say, and the words banging at the inside of of your mouth trying to find an opening

to explode out from your lips. Knowing what to say, but the words just wont come out. Ever so often you

garnish  enough will and power to pry those lips open and all that slithers out is a squeak or a moan. I  imagine

this is how a baby or a mute person feels. So much Frustration, and all that you can muster is a fucking squeak.

 They are still there inside walking around like they are waiting for something. Sand is Getting blown around

,you're at the doors but don’t have the strength to get off the ground. You feel vibrations  coming from the

ground as he stomps those few feet until he is hovering over you blotting out the sun. You are reduced to tears

 and your thoughts. Your immediate thought is “This man is going to murder me,and I am going to die. All That

 will remain is blood and pulp.” You are helpless, glued to the ground, and releasing your bowls. You pray to god

for forgiveness, and tell everyone you are sorry for the things you have done. Your stomach is churning out shit

 Ice cream. You ask god to save you one more time. Then he says hovering  and blotting out the sun standing

there so menacingly. “ No one can hear you, your just thinking all of this, no one is listening, you wont be

saved, and even worse you wont save them.” He points to your loved one walking around. He picks you up and

slams your body, then proceeds to kick and punch your body. He has endless stamina, the sounds of bones

cracking and flesh being punched are being echoed down the street. His heavy breathing feels like flames to

your body, and when he spits on you it boils the skin it touches.

One last smack to the head is the last thing you feel, then your body goes numb,you are paralyzed

completely. You watch him take a few steps to the right, only  to see him come back with a saw and a knife.

You watch as he dismembers your body,  sawing off your arms and cutting your tendon’s with the knife. Your

laying in a pool of your own blood. Then you see him take the knife and carve one eye out, now your vision is

blurred. Then he proceeds to strike down your other eye with ungodly force. Your last thought before

completely blacking out are the words. “I love You.”  Then everything goes black you loose all thought,

everything is black, no noise, no smell no feel, nothing just black. A moment passes, then your able too see

hints of color and light, through your eye lids. You open your eyes and see everything is blurry. You have this

new found strength, you feel alive and awake. Imagine if you will a building, tall and tattered,the higher you go

the brighter it gets, the lower you go the darker it gets. You wake up in a room with three others; shadow

figures you cant make out. You exit your room to the lobby. There are people here in this building, people you

know, loved ones and acquaintances. The elevators don’t work and there are only stairs to the lower levels.

Standing there you here the faint sound of music coming from below. Think about that person who means the

most to you, that person who you love more than life itself. You love them so much that it isn’t a stretch to say

 that your souls are connected. Your first thought is to  follow them, you head down the stairs, and you quickly

 notice that the room gets dimmer.

title: Hell A short story about my dream last night.

question: Summarize the description of narrator's experience in the building he found himself.

text: Some crucial facts about the narrator's experience.

answer: The narrator found himself in a tall building with stairs to a bright top and a dark bottom. This means the higher you go the brighter it gets and the reverse is that case if you descend to the bottom. The narrator woke up in a room with shadowy figures he isn't able to see properly. The elevators in the buildings do not work and there was some kind of music coming from below the building. The narrator's loved ones were also present in the building as well and they do not seem to know where they are or recognize the narrator. T

text: The narrator's loved ones are not present in the building.

text: The answer omits the narrator's experience with the man who kills him.

text: The last sentence is not relevant to the question.

text: The narrator's loved ones are not relevant to the question.

text: The answer is incomplete. The narrator's experience should be summarized.

text: There is no evidence that the narrator's loved ones were also present in the building as well.

text: The last sentence is not completely accurate and should be omitted.

text: He was unable to recognize the narrator.

text: The answer should mention the bar and the dead people. It should also mention the dismemberment

answer: The narrator was in some kind of hotel or apartment building, where all the elevators didn't work and there were only stairs to the lower levels. Shadows of all sizes were breaking their way into the building with the narrator. Everyone lies on the ground with seemingly no emotions.

text: It's omitted that he knows most of the people in the building, but upon closer inspection they're just shadows.

text: It's omitted the narrator gets around the building while holding onto the arm of a loved one, and tries to leave the building despite the feeling that it's keeping him inside.

text: The text doesn't mention the people being emotionless, this should be omitted.

answer: The narrator found himself in a tall building with stairs to a bright top and a dark bottom. This means the higher you go the brighter it gets and the reverse is that case if you descend to the bottom. The narrator woke up in a room with shadowy figures he isn't able to see properly. The elevators in the buildings do not work and there was some kind of music coming from below the building. The narrator's loved ones were also present in the building as well and they do not seem to know where they are or recognize the narrator. T

text: It is not clear if they recognize him because they shout his name

text: It is omitted that they follow the narrator and that he promises them he will be back and bring some food. He goes to the nearby building and meets a man who starts hurling food at him. He collapses. The man starts hitting him, and he thinks the man will kill him. Later, he wakes up in the same room.

text: The answer should mention that it was a dream.

answer: The narrator found himself in a tall building with stairs to a bright top and a dark bottom. This means the higher you go the brighter it gets and the reverse is that case if you descend to the bottom. The narrator woke up in a room with shadowy figures he isn't able to see properly. The elevators in the buildings do not work and there was some kind of music coming from below the building. The narrator's loved ones were also present in the building as well and they do not seem to know where they are or recognize the narrator. Time seems to pass on slowly in the building as days turn into weeks, and weeks to months to years and to centuries. A bigger shadow emerged from the next building to the one the narrator's in. It seems to take pleasure in torturing the narrator.

text: "The narrator found himself in a tall building with stairs to a bright top and a dark bottom." - this is unnecessary.

text: The response should mention that the figures in the building have no faces.

text: The response should mention that the narrator died after being tortured and beaten, only to wake up in the same room in the same building, doomed to repeat everything again and again for eternity.


text:
be happy at all times
never stay angry, hold grudges, or talk badly about someone else
find a way to love everyone and tell them why you do

	today friday october 17th 2014 will hold the title for the day the most intense thing has ever happened to me.
	the day started off normally as any day on the golf course would.  the day before, thursday, we had done most of the hard work around the course, i had string line trimmed the edge and banks of the sand bunkers and finished the day spraying ponds… no easy task!
	when i arrived friday morning and parked in my usual spot by the entrance to the shop, i was greeted by my coworker Mike.  He looks to be 55, heavy set but not fat, balding head with white hair he covers with a faded blue baseball cap, grey shirt and blue jeans.  “Did ya work hard yesterday?”, he asks somewhat mockingly, I ignore the jest.  Gathering the things for the day from my car, with my back to the entrance i hear him again.  “yo dom, did you guys work hard yesterday?”  i’m not sure if he is just joking, or whole-heartedly is curious.  sharply, i say “yea man we weed whacked trap bank edges, got sand in my eye and shit, thats probably why you called out yesterday, to avoid the hard work!”  mike explains his wife actually had a bad fall and was bruised and he needed to stay home to help her.  makes me feel like shit for accusing him of calling hookie, so i apologize and brush it off.
	Start of the day, i am to mow fairways on the back nine, have my first two fairways done and i am half way through my third.  I see my coworker mike again coming along the cart path, i have to look forward to continue to mowing a straight line but i acknowledge him with a head nod, and out of the corner of my eye, i see he does the same.  I finish mowing the first half of the fairway and start to mow the other half about 10-15 minutes after i first saw mike.  As i go to empty the grass clippings my fairway machine collects, i see mikes cart.  At first i think nothing of it and begin to empty the buckets of grass clippings…  the fairway mower has 5 buckets to empty.  i empty the first bucket, go to put it back in its place and think to myself “that is a curious place to park your cart”  i write it off, “maybe he parked there to stay out of the mud, and walked his mower to where he was working”…. grab and empty the second bucket, “i don’t see him anywhere near this cart and its not exactly the closest spot to where he should be going”  replace the second bucket and start emptying the third “maybe he is just taking a bathroom break, there are some trees near there, thats probably what he is doing”.  third and fourth bucket emptied and replaced… i reach for the 5th bucket “well if he is taking a piss i will be able to see him from here, or he will eventually have to walk back to his cart”  replace the 5th and final bucket and begin to climb onto my machine.  the machine’s seat holds you a good 4 feet off the ground so the perspective from there is much better and i can see that on the back of mike’s cart is the machine he is supposed to be mowing with.  i stand up on my machine to see even further, i don’t see him anywhere near the cart or in the woods peeing, or on his phone by a tree or anything.  i don’t see mike at all, it looks like he just disappeared!  i hope off my mower and start walking towards his cart.  I’m squinting my eyes and scanning the landscape trying to find him.  his cart is parked by a few big rocks at the corner of a hair pin turn.  the top of #14 tee to be exact, and beside the cart is what looks to be those grey stones.  i am walking towards the cart, staring at the stone closest to the cart.  i take a quick paced step once i see the stone looks to be too large to be the stones i know to be placed there.  like seeing lightning strike in front of you, in a flash i realize that is not a stone, an instant passes, and the roaring thunder of realization comes with a fast growing rumble, and an ear shattering and unstoppable crash of understanding.  beside the cart, laying on the ground, is my co-worker mike.
	my very next step is fully extended and propels me forward, my legs are stretching and throwing my body forward at full speed.  i am running as fast as i possibly can and realizing more with each pounding step, mike is on the ground, why is mike on the ground, i hope he is just stuck or can’t get up, he’s face down.  Oh my god, he is face down!  i send the signal to my legs, FASTER - NOW FUCKERS - MOVE ITTTT!!, they can’t move any quicker, they are at maximum speed, i stretch my legs to increase my gait.  i can’t get to mike quick enough, he is less than 50 feet away and it is taking AGES to get to him.  I’m screaming his name now, screaming and running and i can’t get there fast enough.  finally I’m right over him, immediately i can see the back of his shaved head is purple.  i flip mike over screaming for him to respond, hoping, praying, pleading that i will turn him over and he will be breathing.  when i roll mike over and saw his face it uncontrollably shocked me.  i didn’t have time to be taken back or even react to it, just a momentary pause for the flood of emotions to be processed.  i had smashed through the glass and into chaos, utter despair, pure horror and fear.  Mike’s face was more purple than the back of his head.  his face had been smushed against cold solid mud, it hadn’t stuck to him or gotten into his nose, but his cheek and upper lip looked smushed, his nose too one nostril held closed against the ground.  the impression the ground left on his face did not immediately snap into place.  slowly the skin faded to it’s original resting place, but it was still off.  his face looked distorted, wrong, purple and smushed, his eyes half-open half-closed and completely expressionless.  he was always smiling or showing how he felt right on his face, big cheesing smile, round cheeks and bright eyes behind his glasses.  t didn’t look like him, wasn’t alive like he was, it was flattened and dull, emotionless and frozen. i caught myself honestly questioning if this was even mike.  there was no way to escape the cold hard truth, it was mike, and he was in extremely bad shape.
	before i had even seen mikes face, before i even knelt beside him, somewhere along the never ending run i had realized already what was going on and what i had to do.  my brain was making checklists, ordering them for me and coming up with instructions for my consciousness to eventually follow once it had caught up to the realization of what needs to be done.  i had wasted so much time it felt like, i had JUST turned him over, JUST slid next to his side and still i felt like it was forever ago i realized he needs help and what needed to be done was already behind schedule.  fumbling and crying and screaming i paw for my phone.  I’m about to be an emotional mess i think to myself.  another part of me is impatient, and it takes over, i dial 9-1-1 for emergency help for the first time in my life.  press enter, there is no ringing or waiting, at least that i remember, it seemed as if i was instantaneously connected and a woman was asking me “where is the location of your emergency”  i’m flooding her with information, a constant stream of consciousness frantic at first and then steady and continuous flow.  “1800 tournament drive off of 202.  its blue bell country club, but that is the address for the main building, we are out on the course.”  I am talking right over her questions, comprehending them seconds later and without pause answering them in a constant flow of words.  ambulance is on it’s way and i want to start compressions, i’ve already been trying while the 911 operator was getting the information from me.  i ask her to instruct me to give cpr, i have half an idea what i am supposed to be doing and have been doing it and continue to as she describes to me the process.  i am impatient and keep telling her to start counting out when i should be doing compressions, finally she gets to it: “1,2….3,4….5,6…..7,8….”  i can feel his rib break, it’s disturbs me but i’ve heard that is better to have a broken live and be alive.  i have the operator on speakerphone and I’m giving mike chest compressions.  “…hands right between his nipples, pushing with the heel of your palm, use both hands to compress the chest two inches downward.”  we count 100 compressions and check for a response, count to 100, and check for a response.  before the first 100 is complete i can hear sirens coming.  I’m so happy someone is coming and it encourages me.  i look at mikes smushed purple face, nothing moves except when i compress his chest, and it deflates me again.  I wish someone else would do this or i could just stop and cry about it but the part of my that feels that way is not physically in control of my body.  i check his mouth and keep saying his name.  my body is in control of doing compressions, my mind is listening to the operator for cues when to send the signal to my body, and i am staring at mikes face.  I’m feel I’m not even doing the compressions, really I’m not, I’m unable to do that, I’m looking over my own shoulder, crying, sobbing, drumming up and pushing down ebbs and flows of hope and despair, my weaker self incapable of anything but encouraging my mind and body to continue.  i am shattered, in shambles, suddenly I’m sucked back into my own body: desperately trying to make my compressions where they are supposed to be, as deep as they are supposed to be, on perfect timing with the operators instructions, acting with determination and courage.
	it has already dawned on me, and i refused to to swallow it, so i spit it back out.  mike is dead.  i knew it from the second i rolled him over to see the grotesque purple smushed face.  mike is dead and there is nothing i can do, it was too late from even the moment i saw him.  he has laid face down for too long.  i deny it and deny and and still to this moment right now writing this i want nothing more than to believe he will be ok.  i want him to be ok, i beg for him to be ok, i would do backflips and marry this man if he is alive and i will never lose contact with him… but very sadly, very hard to admit, or to say, or to let myself think… out of fear that believing it alone might make it true, or that not acknowledging if he is alive or not may give him advantage.   mike is not ok, mike will not start breathing, mike has died.  i am full.  i have already eaten to my capacity, i am not hungry at all.  in fact the sight of food, even the thought, makes me sick!  and now, laying before me is a full feast for an army.  each bite is force fed to me, spooned in my mouth and forced down my throat.  his purple smushed face, a huge chunk to swallow, i can’t please no more.  i already have a stomach full of my own problems, my own stress, my own emotional turmoil.  one more bite!  forced into me, so much to digest and i don’t want it.  i have enough already.  each spoonful bigger then the last.  i refuse, i won’t even think about it, focus on something else.  time inevitably passes and i forget to keep forgetting what happened.  a thought slips in, the worst are the images, tactile memories, very small, seemingly insignificant details are the biggest pieces, dense and heavy, hard to digest.  i can’t seem to even get them past my mouth, i keep tasting them over and over, just want them to be in, so they can be closer to being let go.  mike was happy all day, literally said “no one can bring me down today”  he was singing all morning, happily accepted what everyone would agree is a hard job, even took the hardest route of that job.  this started out well written and I’ve given up, i just want the words to be here before i devote my mind to forgetting them all.  so sad.  i want to put in here too but i can’t find a segway.  chuck talked to mike when he drove by him, told him he didn’t look good and should take it easy or take a rest,  mike said he was working hard and sweating but it was “good exercise”  i thank all my lucky stars that mike was in a really good mood, and hope that he was at least happy.  i really want nothing more than for mike to be alive.  i can’t help but think that he is dead.  i want him to come back, i hope to everything and anything wether i believe or not, i hope and beg anything, anyone anywhere please let mike live.  let him come back to life and be ok!

be happy at all times
never stay angry, hold grudges, or talk badly about someone else
tell everyone that you love exactly how you feel about them
be happy at all times, to the best of your ability
make friends and strive to keep them
tell people when they do good
please and thank you
i love you
be happy at all times

title: [NF] Be Happy at All Times.

question: Summarize the narrator's experience prior to seeing Mike's lifeless body.

text: There is no evidence in the passage to suggest that Mike's son was ill or that he even had a son.

answer: The narrator describes the first two days of the week as quite normal. On the first day, he and Mike did some fairway mowing on the back nine. By the following morning, he is done mowing the first two fairways on the back nine and on his way to the third. Mike again comes by and gives a head nod, to which the narrator gives in return. The narrator removes the grass clippings from his fairway machine and goes to fill the buckets from the fairway mower. However, as he is refilling the buckets, he notices that something isn't right with Mike. Mike's cart is parked unattended and he is no where to be found. The narrator notes that this is quite a strange way to park a cart and the narrator assumes that maybe he is busy with a task and doesn't have time to explain his action to anyone else. The narrator goes in search of Mike and is shocked to see his body.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator is initially angry at Mike for taking a day off.

text: The response is missing the part where the narrator notices Mike's body.

text: The response is missing the part where the narrator sees Mike's body.

text: The response contains inaccurate information.

text: The answer omits the narrator's interactions with Mike.

text: The answer should highlight the negative event of the second day, which is Mike's accident.

answer:
The protagonist works on a golf course alongside Mike and other people. The protagonist and others had done most of the hard work on Thursday without Mike who was absent because his wife was ill. Mike came in the next day and asked the protagonist if he did any hard work the day before. The protagonist was sarcastic towards Mike in his reply. However, he later apologized to Mike.
The protagonist started the day's work, mowing the fairways. He saw Mike doing the same and proceeded to empty the bucket of grass clippings he collected from mowing the fairways. After a while, the protagonist saw Mike's cart but not its driver. He thought nothing about it but continued his work. After a long while, the protagonist decided to look for Mike. He found Mike's body lying beside the cart with his face downwards.

text: Some of the syntax in the first paragraph could be rewritten, as it is repetitive.

answer:
The protagonist works on a golf course alongside Mike and other people. The protagonist and others had done most of the hard work on Thursday without Mike who was absent because his son was ill. Mike came in the next day and asked the protagonist if he did any hard work the day before. The protagonist was sarcastic towards Mike in his reply. However, he later apologized to Mike.
The protagonist started the day's work, mowing the fairways. He saw Mike doing the same and proceeded to empty the bucket of grass clippings he collected from mowing the fairways. After a while, the protagonist saw Mike's cart but not its driver. He thought nothing about it but continued his work. After a long while, the protagonist decided to look for Mike. He found Mike's body lying beside the cart with his face downwards.

text:
- The answer incorrectly says Mike was absent because his son was ill. However, the story says Mike was absent because his wife had a bad fall and was bruised, so he needed to stay at home to help her. Correct that line to this.
- 'He saw Mike doing the same and proceeded to empty the bucket of grass clippings he collected from mowing the fairways.' - This sentence should be rewritten as it appears in the story. The narrator saw Mike returning the head nod he gave him.
- Also, it was 10-15 minutes after the narrator saw Mike before mowing the other half of the fairway and emptying the grass clippings.

answer:
The protagonist works on a golf course alongside Mike and other people. The protagonist and others had done most of the hard work on Thursday without Mike who was absent because his wife was ill. Mike came in the next day and asked the protagonist if he did any hard work the day before. The protagonist was sarcastic towards Mike in his reply. However, he later apologized to Mike.
The protagonist started the day's work, mowing the fairways. He saw Mike doing the same and proceeded to empty the bucket of grass clippings he collected from mowing the fairways. After a while, the protagonist saw Mike's cart but not its driver. He thought nothing about it but continued his work. After a long while, the protagonist decided to look for Mike. He found Mike's body lying beside the cart with his face downwards.

text: The answer omits that the protagonist was mowing the fairways on the back nine when he saw Mike.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator was initially angry at Mike for not working hard the day before.

text: The answer omits that the narrator was initially angry with Mike for taking a day off.

text: The answer should mention that the narrator is angry at Mike for not working hard the day before.

text: The answer omits the narrator's realization that Mike is dead.

text: The answer doesn't mention that the protagonist is on the back nine of the golf course.

text: The question is asking for the narrator's experience, not the story's plot.

text: The answer can be more concise.

answer:
The protagonist works on a golf course alongside Mike and other people. The protagonist and others had done most of the hard work on Thursday without Mike who was absent because his son was ill. Mike came in the next day and asked the protagonist if he did any hard work the day before. The protagonist was sarcastic towards Mike in his reply. However, he later apologized to Mike.
The protagonist started the day's work, mowing the fairways. He saw Mike doing the same and proceeded to empty the bucket of grass clippings he collected from mowing the fairways. After a while, the protagonist saw Mike's cart but not its driver. He thought nothing about it but continued his work. After a long while, the protagonist decided to look for Mike. He found Mike's body lying beside the cart with his face downwards.

text: The answer omits that the protagonist was mowing the fairways on the back nine.

text: The answer omits that the narrator was mowing the fairways on the back nine when he saw Mike.

text: The answer is not accurate. The narrator's coworker Mike was absent the day before because his wife had a bad fall, not because his son was ill.

text: The second sentence is inaccurate. Mike was absent because his wife had a bad fall and was injured.

text: It is not stated that the protagonist works alongside other people.

text: The first two lines should be combined.

text: The answer says that Mike's son was ill when Mike clears up that his wife hurt herself and he stayed home to care for her. This detail should be corrected to reflect the truth.

text: The first two lines should be combined.

answer: The narrator describes the first two days of the week as quite normal. On the first day, he and Mike did some fairway mowing on the back nine. By the following morning, he is done mowing the first two fairways on the back nine and on his way to the third. Mike again comes by and gives a head nod, to which the narrator gives in return. The narrator removes the grass clippings from his fairway machine and goes to fill the buckets from the fairway mower. However, as he is refilling the buckets, he notices that something isn't right with Mike. Mike's cart is parked unattended and he is no where to be found. The narrator notes that this is quite a strange way to park a cart and the narrator assumes that maybe he is busy with a task and doesn't have time to explain his action to anyone else. The narrator goes in search of Mike and is shocked to see his body.

text: The text only describes one whole day. The answer should only really be referring to Friday.

text: He finds it to be a strange place to park the cart (it's parked by a few big rocks), not that it's strange to park the cart.