2. Describe what Judy and Brian saw at Mark's place.

Students read one of these two stories.

Mark had asked Judy and Brian to keep an eye on his place. Taking a few things would be remarkably easy. A broken window, rummaged desk, crowbar marks on the safe. An amateur-looking job. But who the hell would ever know?

Judy plopped herself onto a hideous olive-green sofa, thinking to herself that Mark's taste in furniture was atrocious and that he was a terrible slob to boot. Eyeing week-old cigarette butts and a roach clip in the ashtray, she ran her hands across a wood-carving on the table. Rough edges, but nice.

Brian rounded the corner, a tiny ziploc bag of black beauties pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Tossing them on the table, along with a gold watch and a credit card, he raised one inquisitive eyebrow at Judy. She shook her head, dragged herself up from the comfortable but hideous couch, and followed Brian into Mark's den. While Brian sloppily rammed the crowbar into the safe, walked toward Mark's nightstand, her elbow catching an orangish bong and spilling browned water on the floor. Brian grimaced, then smiled as the safe door gave way. Nothing but papers. Unable to suppress their curiosity, the pair peaked at a recent tax return, a will, and a life insurance policy. Nothing spectacular, except that Mark's will left all his belongings to a children's cancer treatment hospital. That was Mark. A sweet slob with nobody close to him.

Feeling a little guilty about prying, Judy got up and rummaged through the desk. Nothing.

Mark had asked Judy and Brian to keep an eye on his place. Meanwhile, Chris had been arrested for possession, and was just the type who would snitch on Mark as his supplier. Judy and Brian had to clean out Mark's place a.s.a.p.

Judy plopped herself onto a hideous olive-green sofa, thinking to herself that Mark's taste in furniture was atrocious and that he was a terrible slob to boot. Eyeing week-old cigarette butts and a roach clip in the ashtray, she ran her hands across a wood-carving on the table. Rough edges, but nice.

Brian rounded the corner, a tiny ziploc bag of black beauties pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Tossing them on the table, along with a gold watch and a credit card, he raised one inquisitive eyebrow at Judy. She shook her head, dragged herself up from the comfortable but hideous couch, and followed Brian into Mark's den. While Brian sloppily rammed the crowbar into the safe, walked toward Mark's nightstand, her elbow catching an orangish bong and spilling browned water on the floor. Brian grimaced, then smiled as the safe door gave way. Nothing but papers. Unable to suppress their curiosity, the pair peaked at a recent tax return, a will, and a life insurance policy. Nothing spectacular, except that Mark's will left all his belongings to a children's cancer treatment hospital. That was Mark. A sweet slob with nobody close to him.

Feeling a little guilty about prying, Judy got up and rummaged through the desk. Nothing.