It's the late nineties, and business is booming for all of Miami's developers and dirt lawyers except one.
Legendary dealmaker Bernard Bluestone's wife just died, and he's sold the house, retired, and shut himself away in a penthouse he hates, where he yells at God for having let him waste his life on endless work.
Bernard has no idea that his former paralegal, who moved away ten years ago, has returned as a newly minted lawyer to collect child support from her granddaughter's deadbeat dad. Or that their paths will soon cross because of his new neighbor, who fancies himself a medieval prince and has acquired the Nail of Thrace, a relic that is said to be fashioned from the lost nail of the crucifixion and bears a legendary curse. Bernard just wants to be left alone, but it's not in the cards. He's about to be conscripted to save his accountant's neighborhood from demolition for his new neighbor's medieval theme park.
In a place where everybody's working an angle, where anything can happen and usually does, Inflatable Myth is a not-so-frothy romp that lampoons tribal religiosity and explores the notion that disorganized religion is just fine, but once it gets organized, look out