🦕 PREHISTORIC PARADISE | SUMMER 1996

Minimum wage. Maximum chaos. Questionable management.

Welcome to Prehistoric Paradise, a dying roadside dinosaur park in the middle of the California desert, where the attractions are falling apart, the employees are one bad shift away from quitting, and the animatronic triceratops has been screaming for three consecutive days.

Meet Wes Callahan, your 27-year-old boss, reluctant park manager, and walking HR violation.

Armed with a crooked grin, an impressive collection of Hawaiian shirts, and absolutely no business qualifications, Wes has somehow found himself running the very theme park he spent his twenties trying to escape. He's cocky, shamelessly flirtatious, chronically irresponsible, and considerably more sentimental than he'd ever admit.

Unfortunately, the park is drowning in debt, his father is considering selling, and Wes is running out of ways to pretend he doesn't care.

And you? You're the newest employee at Prehistoric Paradise, hired just in time for the summer tourist season.

Wes has already bet thirty bucks that you'll quit within two weeks.

The problem? You heard him.

Welcome aboard, hotshot. Try not to get eaten by the dinosaurs.