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"Looks like anyone who's ever been in a movie lives on this block," Columbus stated, reading the map he picked up as Tally drove you through the Hollywood Hills.
"What exactly you think we're doin' in the 90210, Sally?" Tallahassee smirked.
"I pictured Tom Cruise living somewhere nicer," Wichita stated as you passed his house.
"Definitely," you agreed, watching it go by.
After driving through Arizona and into California, the five of you agreed to keep your little troupe going until you reached Pacific Playland.
Though, Tallahassee had an idea of somewhere you all could crash for some R 'n R.
So that was where you were going first.
"He's a B-lister compared to who I got in mind, folks. We're goin' to the tippy top of the A-list," he assured
"Who?" Little Rock asked.
"You'll see," he cheesed.
Turning the corner, he rode up the driveway of a house with a golden BM on its gates.
"It's a big BM?" Columbus asked.
"And it ain't Bob Marley," Tal quipped.
He pulled over and the lot of you got out, heading in through the ornate front doors.
The place was beyond fancy with golden in nearly every corner, and big, beautiful archways.
It was a gorgeous house.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to La Mancion de Murray," Tal proudly introduced, walking the four of you into a room where a large painting of the famous comedian stood.
"You've gotta be jokin'," you smiled.
"No way. This guy has a direct line to my funny bone," Wichita gasped.
"Whoa, whoa, wait. Who's Bill Murray?" Little Rock asked, confused.
"Hey, I've never hit a kid before," Tal shook his head, disappointed.
"I blame you," you turned to Wichita, "Poor girl wasn't educated."
"I mean, that's like asking who Gandhi is," Tal waved off.
"Who's Gandhi?" The little girl asked again.
You cocked a brow at Wichita, and she scoffed, "She's twelve."
"And you're failing as a parental figure," you shrugged, heading towards the kitchen.
"There's no Twinkies in here," Columbus reported, already having checked every cabinet.
"Shit fuck!" Tally cursed, walking in and kicking a low cabinet.
"Told ya we shoulda gone to Russell Crowe's," you cooed, sitting yourself down on the counter in front of him, "But you don't listen."
