The bus careened madly down streets and made such sharp turns that soon the hopeful tourists of Los Angelas were not even sure where it was they were going. Behind the wheel of the dark blue double decker monstrosity was a man named Herman. Good old Herman had on a dark purple suit with a purple top hat covering his dark gray matted hair. He wore shades at night and was chain smoking while steering the bus with both hands. He talked into a receiver that broadcasted across the bus on both floors, so the guests could hang on to his every word.

“Alright folks, for the first portion of this tour we are going to see some of your favorite slasher character’s houses. We are turning down Thirteenth street now. . .”

The bus made a hard right turn onto a quiet suburbia street. It looked like a culdesac right out of midwest America, with well kept properties and mowed lawns.

“First up is the house of Jason!” Herman the bus driver shouted as he slowed the bus down, allowing his guests to get a good look at the one story colonial ranch house with a paved driveway and a Toyota Corolla parked out front.

“When he is not off on holiday, word around town is that he throws great parties. ANYWAYS, moving on, right next to him across this tall wooden fence here we have Micheal Myers. . . Oh and look! He is standing outside on his front lawn right now!”

The bus exploded with excitement and camera flashes at Mike as he held up his knife in a stabbing pose. He held the position and didn’t flinch as they drove past.

“Now on your right we have Freddy Kruger’s house.” Herman said, swaying the bus onto the wrong side of the street.

A large dog came sprinting out from behind the house madly. It bellowed and barked and the bus, stopping just short of the sidewalk. From inside the dark house that hid behind two pine trees, a light turned on. If they listened closely they could hear a muffled voice yelling “shut up! Im trying to get some sleep here!”

“Okay, we are going to make a left here onto Elm.” Announced Herman. “They say that Pennywise the Clown lives down somewhere in the sewers around here… keep your eyes peeled for any balloons. And up next is Leatherface’s. . . Well I guess you could call it a barn. Or a shed or something…”

There was a bright light coming through cracks in the old wooden structure where a house should have been. Old rusty chains rattled against the wooden planks, and from inside you could hear a chainsaw revving madly.

“Of course his neighbor is Ash Williams.” Herman went on, as he slowly moved the bus from one house to the next. “You probably wouldn’t believe it but these two actually got into a huge dispute over a tree limb that fell on eachother’s property. It basically came down to who was going to cut it up and remove it. Had to get the police involved and everything!”

“Now down the street here is Chucky’s residence.” Herman said driving the bus along a little faster, passing a few houses before slowing down again. “Folks, I couldnt tell you how its even legal for a children’s doll to buy property but hey, its California after all.”

“Now turn your attention to the left. Its the richest and oldest one of them all. Its the moment you have all been waiting for… the man who started it all. Thats right folks! Good old Frankenstien’s Monster! Its no wonder he lives in a giant mansion. Ooo oooo and if you look wayyyyy in the back little corner theres a tiny little house for Frankenstein himself. Good on The big M to spread his wealth around.”

The bus whipped around another corner, losing a couple passengers from the upper deck over the side without stopping. It then sped off down a dark road. “Okay folks. . . That concludes our slasher section of the tour, and onto the next more terrifying leg of the tour. . . I simply call this part “Politics.”

Almost visable screams and groans could be heard from the now sickend passengers. One person even vomited over the side of the bus at the word. “Let us off now!” A few of them demanded. . . But good old Herman, was determined to terrify his guests.