Rose Palms Motel - Room 240

August 4th, 2008
Rose Palms Motel - Room 241
9:27pm

Professor Percy Mason never took his anger out on anyone.

He had been sitting there for 30 minutes. Remorseful, sad, hungry and guilty. He wanted to pull the bible out from one of the drawers of the motel room. But God would never forgive him for the things he had done. The authorities would find him sooner or later, and they would take him to jail. "God forgets about those who reside in jail" he used to tell his most troublesome students. Those words had just ricocheted off of the last kid he said that to, and it peirced his heart like a harpoon. Now he had to use the restroom. He hated this feeling in the pit of his stomach that seemed to be attached to his ribs. He rubbed the top of his head, half expecting hair to still be there, even though he'd been balding for three years. As he nervously ran his hand across his scalp, every moment that lead up to him sitting on the bed of this motel room came rushing back to him. Things did not go according to plan for Percy. Things never went according to plan for him, but he had originally thought that what he did was going to liberate him; free him from the hell he had put himself in all those years ago. Yet for some reason, all he could feel was sorrow. He missed them--all of them, even his wife. Actually, his wife was who he missed most. He blamed himself. Why didn't he just get a divorce, if he was that unhappy? Why didn't he just move out? Or hell, even if killing them was the only option, why didn't he just do what every husband driven to insanity does and chop them up with an axe?

No, he had to "Go All Out" as his students would say. Creating seven bombs from scratch in the basement of the five story house he lived in. He had to buy 7 Rolex watches for makeshift timers. Long story short...he had blown up his home. Percy had killed his whole family. His wife (1) Merta and her mother (2) Diane. His three children (4) Chauncey, (5) Charles and Deron. Deron was not his child. Merta had had an affair some years ago, and when Deron was born, his real dad showed up with proof that he was the father of that baby. It was obvious...the boy had come out of the womb as chocolate as a Hershey bar. His brother in-law, (6) Mort and his wife Tina were sleeping in the guest room, visiting from Ohio--they, too had suffered the fate of the Mason Bomb. That's what the news had called it. The Mason Bombing. He wasn't watching the television, but the Fox 5 news reporter was buzzing in his ear from it. They were talking about Percy like he was some kind of monster. But they had no idea what he had been through. They had no idea that THEY were the monsters! The in-laws, the wife, even the KIDS! Oh, the kids. Those devilish little beings. They had to die. All of them. Right?...No? Should he regret it? He should, shouldn't he? Whatever. It was done. He had murdered them...he was a murderer! Percy Mason, the man who freaked out and killed his entire family. Blew up his whole life like some kind of terrorist in Freehold, New Jersey. Jumped into his dark green Mercury and drove at 105 mph to Patterson was now sitting on a bed at a lousy motel, thinking about life. About the lives he had taken.

He could hear commotion coming from downstairs. It sounded like a man was getting punched repeatedly. What kind of dirty rotten scoundrel would beat up a man in a hotel room?...was he any better? He was beating himself up without even moving a muscle. He had done this before whenever he was sent up to his room after a verbal beating from his wife and mother in-law. Even after Mort would call him a whimp and tell him that he wasn't good enough for his beloved sister. But he would get comforted later, by all of them. They would all tell him that he would learn to grow, and they would one day accept him into their circle. He looked forward to that, but he had killed all of them. How could he seek comfort from the family that he had just killed? And now the cops had found where he was. The news reporter was saying something about the cops pulling into the motel parking lot. He could hear the sirens on the television and from outside of his window. He sat there anxiously and daydreamed about a life in jail. He thought about how horrible they would treat him there. He thought about the quote he would tell his students that he got from his grandmother: "God forgets about those who reside in jail." Grandmother was right. Jail would have been like hell. Would have...if he hadn't gone through with his plan. Three loud knocks on the door of room 240. "Open up, its the Police!" Even though he expected the loud knock and the disturbing voice coming from outside, it still jolted him out of his daydream. He heard the door from the room below open slowly, but loudly. Then he heard a gun shot! This was the perfect opportunity! He rushed to the briefcase in the corner of the room and set the detinator on the seventh bomb he had made.

"Stop right there!" He heard one of the police men scream to whoever was causing commotion downstairs. There was another knock at Percy's room door. He opened it quickly with a smile on his face. "Hello officers," Percy said with a wide grin. Those were his last words. The (7) seventh bomb was the biggest one he made. It was originally crafted to take out all 5 stories of his home in Freehold, but he decided that making 6 for each of his family members, and killing himself and those who tried to take him to jail, also known as hell, would be more benefitial in the long run.

The bomb exploded and took out 4 rooms. Percy's room was the first to go, obviously. Big Tony and Robbie's room was taken out next. Robbie survived but lost his arm, leg and a chunk of his neck. Tony wasn't so lucky. Neither was Joe, who had still been tied to a chair. Miranda and Russle died slowly. They weren't exactly...blown up. The fire from the blast had swallowed them like a fat man at a hot dog eating contest. The scene was tragic, onlookers said. And in the fourth room...in the fourth room...

TO BE CONTINUED!!