When action movie star Thor Lobo thwarts a gang of car-jackers on a dark highway near Nero, Florida, he vows to make a movie of his heroics. But before the cinematic blockbuster can show Nero as more than a boring beach town, Thor is killed, struck by lightning on the golf course.

The people of Nero insist that since God took their leading man, The Almighty owes them something of comparable greatness.

Suddenly, a developer turns up old bones in a sandy lot. Before science—or sanity—can speak, the bones are declared the earthly remains of “The Original Adam and Eve, locked in a lovers’ embrace.” And the surrounding scrub land? That’s the sanctified “Holy Garden of Eden.”

In thoroughly Florida fashion, a bunch of old bones and acres of sun-burnt sand are enough to justify a theme park. Rivaling anything in Orlando, The Holy Garden of Eden Faith & Fun Park immediately gushes cash on a loaves-and-fishes scale.

No surprise, everybody wants a piece of it. And will kill to get it.

Shooting, stabbing, choking, and cement shoes aren’t enough for these greedy killers. They're packing trigger-happy cops, collapsing buildings, arson, firing squads, S&M rape, and heavily armed “patriots.”

Add the horny, corrupt, “shoot-‘em-on-sight” Governor of Florida, along with his maniacally promiscuous wife (“Prostitution is legal, right?”), and we're deep in Sunshine State madness.

Think "Ozark" meets "South Park" with a dash of "National Lampoon's Vacation."

Here’s laugh-out-loud proof that Florida is a hot boiling blend of everything that’s funny—and frightening—in America today.