Heating Oil Stolen

results in home heating oil being stolen from garden oil tanks, farmers having red diesel stolen. who do you think is to blame? government (tax) or oil companies (greed)

I am an adult and my father died about seven years ago. Since that time, first I listened and tried to comfort my mother in the grieving process. Then she expended a great deal of energy on guilt trips to get me to move to her home, not her town, not her area but back into her her home. I live about 800 miles away, have a stable income and I really don't care to move back into my mother's house and be treated like a 14 y/o again which is what would happen.

She would spend each day watching the funeral video of her husband's (my father) funeral. Then the guilt trips started.

Boo hoo, poor me. *** (My father) is gone, I don't know what I'm going to do. What I did was clean up his mess, litereally. The Department of Natural Resources came in because my father had taken wasted oil from a local factory and it went into the ground. Looking back, I think that the factory would have been liable but I'm sure they would have denied it. His idea was to convert it for heating oil..

I literally spent about three months of my life clearing up the mess he created. There was also the auction which I had to inventory and display. My sister did only one thing on this. She once puppy dogged me around and had her vicious pet dog along with her. When I told her to be quick because I was trying to formulate and write down an item that would be in the upcoming auction, she said "I don't know how to be quiet."

When I asked her to remove the dog as there were a few chickens left that it would attack and kill, she angerally left. Long story short, I compiled a list of what was to be auctioned and not be. For three days I asked my mother to go over it with me but to silence. Then, the auctioneer calls and says he needs the list in two hours. At that point, they spring into action, blah, blah, blah. I'm tired of this at this point and tell them I'm taking a shower as it was a Sunday morning.

They come up, discuss the list and my sister Byatches about it. I look at her complaint and tell her it was a draft that was created three days ago and not the current list.

My mother basically sells everything on the farm and it's in her name. To which, she wastes the majority of the money. Some of it went to my sister because boo hoo.

Things that made sense was installing a central heating air conditioning system not the one that I recommended. Result is it costs my mother more to heat and cool her house per year.

Buying a new car. Yes, I think she needed stable transportation. But, after three times of bringing this up that she put it in her name and my sister's name, and the fact that when she passes, it doesn't go to the estate but to my sister, it's fell on deft ears.

The will states share and share alike. But, according to my mother, my sister needed a Cabinet which was more of a buffet style table. It was in an out building and full of old tools. She took that and my mother claims it was empty. Wrong!

I asked for the main lighting...

raq was claiming that about $7 Billion of its oil had been stolen (at 1990 oil prices) and Iraq was demanding payment or Saddam would invade Kuwait and take payment. Of course, this was all heating up as US Special Forces were attacking and making Saddam think some of his neighbors were stirring up the mess. Just for spite and good measure, George H W Bush had Special Forces playing 'shits and giggles' with Iran at the same time they were trying to goad Saddam Hussein into invadingKuwait. George H W Bush created the mess so he could be a "war president" and appear to be something other than the babbling elitist fool he is. Its the Games they have played always and just for profit nothing whatsoever to do with humanitarian thoughts doubt if any of them know the meaning of the word. Stop the Wars USA!

Please could you read this and tell me if the punctuation/paragraphing/spelling is good? & If there's anything more I could add, I have a GCSE exam tomorrow and have to write this..

Shattered destroyed shells were scattered across the scrumpled sand, glistening in the sunlight as the sea secretively stole them with a swoosh from the soft wind. Warming to the dazzling sun, the heavenly beach welcomes everybody. Its decorative palm tree's branches almost dance along to the soothing music gently flowing out of the hidden speakers layed comfortabley in the heads of the pretty palm trees.
All the sun-seekers have lurred into the trap. Each spread across their salty towels softly held in place on the bumps of the damp sand. Once the families are settled, the heat begins to crawl all over the burnt bodies.
Near the sea were a family of four. Two stressed parents having a break from their chaotic lives at home; the wife slapping on sun-tan oil as the husband shoves his sun bed into the protective shade of the large floppy umbrella. With the couple were their two children; a little girl making a picture in the sand with shells and pretty things she could find, along with a little boy excitedly filling his bucket with water.
Faces light up as everyone is delighted to hear the ice-cream van joyfully approaching the beach. The smell of candyfloss and sugar fill the air as the children skip over. Inside the van colours amaze each little child waiting in line. There are all sorts of fancy sweets and magical looking ice-cream flavours. Little fingers drip with melted ice-cream as they stumble over to their towels.
The bright sun is nearly hot enough to cover each person in an invisible blanket of warmth. Shimmering expanse of endless white that cushions the oceans timeless arrival bringing with it the seas flotsam to decorate the sands soft bed. Carelessly, the warm, golden sand runs between toes with the gentle breeze. The smell of salt consumes the sleepy tourists as the water splashes along the sandy shores. There are children wandering along the sand, stopping every so often to pick up anything they find interesting.
As the day comes to an end, the icecream van speeds off into the distance while everyone is gathering their things together. All that's left behind is litter and the smell of sweat from the beaches visitors. The sky is now a deep purple and sparkly stars are beginning to show. A last sigh of the wind sweeps across as though the beach is now falling asleep while the odd romantic couple strolls along.

David's Haircut By Ken Elkes

When David steps out of the front door he is blinded for a moment by the white, fizzing sunlight and reaches instinctively for his dad's hand.

It's the first really warm day of the year, an unexpected heat that bridges the cusp between spring and summer. Father and son are on their way to the barbershop, something they have always done together.

Always, the routine is the same. "It's about time we got that mop of yours cut," David's dad will say, pointing at him with two fingers, a cigarette wedged between them. "Perhaps I should do it. Where are those shears Janet?"

Sometimes his dad chases him round the living room, pretending to cut off his ears. When he was young David used to get too excited and start crying, scared that maybe he really would lose his ears, but he has long since grown out of that.

Mr Samuels' barbershop is in a long room above the chip shop, reached by a steep flight of stairs. There is a groove worn in each step by the men who climb and descend in a regular stream. David follows his father, annoyed that he cannot make each step creak like his old man can.

David loves the barbershop — it's like nowhere else he goes. It smells of cigarettes and men and hair oil. Sometimes the smell of chips will climb the stairs along with a customer and when the door opens the waiting men lift their noses together.

Black and white photographs of men with various out-of-fashion hairstyles hang above a picture rail at the end of the room, where two barber's chairs are bolted to the floor. They are heavy, old-fashioned chairs with foot pumps that hiss and chatter as Mr Samuels, the rolls of his plump neck squashing slightly, adjusts the height of the seat.

In front of the chairs are deep sinks with a showerhead and long metal hose attached to the taps, not that anyone seems to use them. Behind the sinks are mirrors and on either side of these, shelves overflowing with an mixture of plastic combs (some plunged into a glass bowl containing a blue liquid), shaving mugs, scissors, cut throat razors, hair brushes and, stacked neatly in a pyramid, 10 bright red tubs of Brylcreem.

At the back of the room sit the customers, silent for most of the time, except when Mr Samuels breaks off from cutting and takes a drag on his cigarette, sending a wisp of grey-blue smoke like the tail of kite twisting into the air.

When it is David's turn for a cut, Mr Samuels places a wooden board covered with a piece of oxblood red leather across the arms of the chair, so that the barber doesn't have to stoop to cut the boy's hair. David scrambles up onto the bench.

"The rate you're shooting up, you won't need this soon, you'll be sat in the chair," the barber says.

"Wow," says David, squirming round to look at his dad, forgetting that he can see him through the mirror. "Dad, Mr Samuels said I could be sitting in the chair soon, not just on the board!"

"So I hear," his father replies, not...

Please could you read this and tell me if the punctuation/paragraphing/spelling is good? & If there's anything more I could add, I have a GCSE exam tomorrow and have to write this..

Shattered destroyed shells were scattered across the scrumpled sand, glistening in the sunlight as the sea secretively stole them with a swoosh from the soft wind. Warming to the dazzling sun, the heavenly beach welcomes everybody. Its decorative palm tree's branches almost dance along to the soothing music gently flowing out of the hidden speakers layed comfortabley in the heads of the pretty palm trees.
All the sun-seekers have lurred into the trap. Each spread across their salty towels softly held in place on the bumps of the damp sand. Once the families are settled, the heat begins to crawl all over the burnt bodies.
Near the sea were a family of four. Two stressed parents having a break from their chaotic lives at home; the wife slapping on sun-tan oil as the husband shoves his sun bed into the protective shade of the large floppy umbrella. With the couple were their two children; a little girl making a picture in the sand with shells and pretty things she could find, along with a little boy excitedly filling his bucket with water.
Faces light up as everyone is delighted to hear the ice-cream van joyfully approaching the beach. The smell of candyfloss and sugar fill the air as the children skip over. Inside the van colours amaze each little child waiting in line. There are all sorts of fancy sweets and magical looking ice-cream flavours. Little fingers drip with melted ice-cream as they stumble over to their towels.
The bright sun is nearly hot enough to cover each person in an invisible blanket of warmth. Shimmering expanse of endless white that cushions the oceans timeless arrival bringing with it the seas flotsam to decorate the sands soft bed. Carelessly, the warm, golden sand runs between toes with the gentle breeze. The smell of salt consumes the sleepy tourists as the water splashes along the sandy shores. There are children wandering along the sand, stopping every so often to pick up anything they find interesting.
As the day comes to an end, the icecream van speeds off into the distance while everyone is gathering their things together. All that's left behind is litter and the smell of sweat from the beaches visitors. The sky is now a deep purple and sparkly stars are beginning to show. A last sigh of the wind sweeps across as though the beach is now falling asleep while the odd romantic couple strolls along.